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The Franciscan continued, "I repeat, there are several persons staying in this inn." "So I have heard." "They ought to be eight in number." The Jesuit made a sign that he understood him. "The first to whom I wish to speak," said the dying man, "is a German from Vienna, whose name is Baron de Wostpur. Be kind enough to go to him, and tell him the person he expected has arrived."
Good!" he said; "ambitious, a fool, and straitened in means." He folded up the papers, which he thrust under his pillow. Rapid footsteps were heard at the end of the corridor. The confessor returned, followed by the Baron de Wostpur, who walked along with his head raised, as if he were discussing with himself the possibility of touching the ceiling with the feather in his hat.
"Can you show me the reply which the secretary of the grand council returned to you?" "Here it is," said the baron, holding towards the Franciscan a letter bearing simply the address, "To his excellency the Baron de Wostpur," and containing only this phrase, "From the 15th to the 22nd May, Fontainebleau, the hotel of the Beau Paon. "Right," said the Franciscan, "and now speak."
The confessor, astounded, looked at his penitent; the confession seemed a singular one. "Obey," said the Franciscan, in a tone of command impossible to resist. The good Jesuit, completely subdued, rose and left the room. As soon as he had gone, the Franciscan again took up the papers which a crisis of the fever had already, once before, obliged him to put aside. "The Baron de Wostpur?
"A revolution throughout Europe is included in my plan," said the baron. "Very well, Monsieur de Wostpur, you will receive a reply; return to your room, and leave Fontainebleau within a quarter of an hour." The baron withdrew backwards, as obsequiously as if he were taking leave of the emperor he was ready to betray. "There is no secret there," murmured the Franciscan, "it is a plot.
First of all, a brigadier in the German army, his secretary, physician, three servants, and seven horses. The brigadier's name was the Comte de Wostpur. A Spanish cardinal, with two nephews, two secretaries, an officer of his household, and twelve horses. The cardinal's name was Monseigneur Herrebia. A rich merchant of Bremen, with his man-servant and two horses.
"Let us proceed, however, in due order," said the monk. "You are the Baron de Wostpur?" "Yes, monseigneur." "And this letter is from you?" "Yes, monseigneur." The general of the Jesuits drew a paper from his bundle, and presented it to the baron, who glanced at it, and made a sign in the affirmative, saying, "Yes, monseigneur, this letter is mine."
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