“‘My God, what could be the meaning of all this? How came it that this man had thus obtained such influence? Day by day did it increase and grow more irksome, still drawing, as it were, a charmed circle round my very existence, diminishing in circumference until it had grown so small that I could not even turn without feeling wounded by its pressure; every day and every hour drew the coils yet closer. It was then that I ended where I ought to have begun, and set myself earnestly to work to examine the character of the man, who had, in spite of me, gained such ascendancy over my family. To my great astonishment, I found him a man of the keenest wit and most consummate knowledge of the world, whose practical learning and experience were universal, whose energy and perseverance were dauntless. I soon discovered, with a feeling of terror which I cannot describe, that he had fathomed my character with as much accuracy as though I had lived with him from my youth upwards. He _knew_ of my scorn and hatred of restraint, and therefore had used none. He _knew_ that I was of a proud and melancholy temperament, and therefore had never roused my ire by opposition. I felt a bitter contempt for myself, when I found that in all things it was his system to _humour_ me. The hour came at last, however, for the unravelling of all the mystery.
“‘One day, Giordoni came to me with busy and important looks, and with a hurried air, to consult me upon the plan of a building he was about to erect upon the ground which he had bought of Cesario. It was within view of the windows of my own château, and therefore it was the act of a friend to consult me upon the form and fashion of its structure, and, as in duty bound, I thanked him heartily for the kind attention.
“‘It was a chapel to Saint Ignatius which he was about to erect, “_en attendant_ the convent,” he added, with a smile bland and affable, “which it was his intention to found when he should grow richer.” The dedication startled me.
“‘Not a convent of Jesuits?’ said I, faintly, for I had imbibed a share of the popular hatred, which, just at that time, the Order had inspired throughout the whole of Europe.
“‘The abbé smiled again, yet more peaceably than before. “Pardon me,” replied he, in a gentle tone, “our Order has need of a station in this part of the country. We are poorly represented, my friend, observe—” and he drew forth his memorandum-book, “from Saint Tomaso to Mabli, eight leagues, from Mabli to this place, seventeen; it is too far.”