Do you know what happens
to those uninitiate who learn that secret? to those wretched men, the
initiate who reveal it?"
As Pinto spoke to me, he looked through and through me with his horrible
piercing glance, so that I sat quite uneasily on my bench. He continued:
"Did I question her awake? I knew she would lie to me. Poor child! I
loved her no less because I did not believe a word she said. I loved her
blue eye, her golden hair, her delicious voice, that was true in song,
though when she spoke, false as Eblis! You are aware that I possess
in rather a remarkable degree what we have agreed to call the mesmeric
power. I set the unhappy girl to sleep. THEN she was obliged to tell me
all. It was as I had surmised. Goby de Mouchy, my wretched, besotted,
miserable secretary, in his visits to the chateau of the Marquis de
Bechamel, who was one of our society, had seen Blanche. I suppose it was
because she had been warned that he was worthless, and poor, artful
and a coward, she loved him. She wormed out of the besotted wretch the
secrets of our Order. 'Did he tell you the NUMBER ONE?' I asked.
"She said, 'Yes.'
"'Did he,' I further inquired, 'tell you the--'
"'Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me!' she said, writhing on the sofa, where
she lay in the presence of the Marquis de Bechamel, her most unhappy
father.
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