"This language is indeed strange in the month of Monte-Leone," said d'Harcourt.
"Far different," said Taddeo, "from that you used yesterday."
"Calm and cold," said Von Apsberg, "when we take into consideration the storm which howls around us--the shipwrecks which menace every day our vessels."
"Because the heavens are in a blaze--because the tempests howls around us, I would have you for the time seek a shelter."
"Once, though," said Apsberg, "you advised us to brave danger, to meet it face to face, to parry it with arms in our hands, to conquer or to die."
"Gentlemen," said the Count with dignity, "am I called on to rehearse again the offensive scene which took place at the abbey de San Paolo? Am I, as one in the supreme _vente_ of Naples, the chief of which I was, an object of distrust to my brethren? Have I again lost the confidence of my dearest associates? If such be the case, if the pledges I have given to our cause are now valueless, if forgetfulness and ingratitude go together, say so, plainly and distinctly. I am willing to abandon the office, title, and rank, you have conceded to me. I will write to all the _ventes_ of Europe and will henceforth become the most humble but not the least devoted brother of the association."
The suspicions of the three friends at once passed away when they heard this energetic and loyal discourse. Von Apsberg gave his hand to the Count. "Excuse us," said he, "misfortune embitters even the best men. The misfortunes of our brethen, the mysterious enemy who denounces and seems anxious to effect our ruin, overwhelm and distress us. Look," added he, with the haste with which men often discharge a painful duty, "here are the lists of the six chiefs of the central _ventes_. Are these the papers given you by the imprisoned chiefs A----, Ch----, B----, C----, F----, and Ober? Are these the papers you gave me?"
"Are these their signatures?" said Von Apsberg.
"You are mistaken," said d'Harcourt, "at least in relation to that of Ober, for here is his true signature to this letter, written the day previous to his arrest. You can yourself see how poor the imitation is."
The Count grew pale, and the other conspirators watched him as if to read his thoughts.