heul in Parma and Tuscany?"

"Most certainly," answered Fongereues, uneasily, for this allusion to
money was most unwelcome. "I am ready to second all efforts of this
Society, but still it would be necessary for me to know just what amount
would be required of me. My resources are just now greatly restricted,
and--"

"Do not be concerned," said Vellebri, coldly, "the amount need not
disturb you." Fongereues sighed with relief. "You will have to give but
one million."

"A million!" repeated the Marquis, in despair.

"In fixing this sum our Superiors have merely carried out their plan of
attaching you to their cause."

"But a million!" repeated the Marquis, "it is impossible. Were I to sell
all that I now have in the world, I should not realize the half of this
sum!"

"Is this, then, a refusal?"

"By no means. But a million!--I haven't it," and he repeated these words
over and over again.

"But you have resources which should make such a sacrifice easy."

"No, you are mistaken. I am ruined, entirely ruined!"

His agitation was so great that he forgot to dissimulate.

"But the fortune of your father was very large, and cannot be
exhausted."

"But I was robbed of that!"

Fernando rose from his chair.

"Permit me," he said, "to decline to enter into any affairs foreign to
the matters we have under consideration. I came to offer you peace or
war. Peace means fortune and power, and war--"

"War!" repeated Fongereues, "I do not understand you."

"When the Society proposes a compact, when, as I have just done to you,
she unveils her secret designs, she holds in reserve a weapon which
places at her mercy the man of whom she wished to make an ally, and whom
she does not choose to have for an adversary."

"I! I an adversary of the Society of Jesus! You cannot mean what you
say."

"Everything is possible, Marquis. This is our ultimatum--either you will
accept the proposals I have made, and placing in my hands within five
days the million I ask, you will at once begin the campaign whose
success is certain, or within five days a certain person will place in
the hands of the Procureur de Roi papers which will be your ruin."

"What do you mean?"

Fongereues was livid as he asked this question.

"They are notes, forged by the Vicomte, your son!"

"Talizac a forger! Impossible!"

"I assure you that it is only too true. Once more, let me ask for your
decision."

"I beg you to remember that my devotion to th