THE TWO BROTHERS OF THE GOOD WORK.
Faringhea, as we have before stated, though born in India, had travelled a good deal, and frequented the European factories in different parts of Asia.Speaking well both English and French, and full of intelligence and sagacity, he was perfectly civilized.
Instead of answering Rodin's question, he turned upon him a fixed and searching look.The socius, provoked by this silence, and forseeing vaguely that Faringhea's arrival had some connection--direct or indirect-
-with Djalma, repeated, though still with the greatest coolness: "To whom, sir, have I the honor of speaking?"
"Do you not recognize me," said Faringhea, advancing two steps nearer to Rodin's chair.
"I do not think I have ever had the honor of seeing you," answered the other, coldly.
"But I recognize you," said Faringhea; "I saw you at Cardoville Castle the day that a ship and a steamer were wrecked together."
"At Cardoville Castle? It is very possible, sir.I was there when a shipwreck took place."
"And that day I called you by your name, and you asked me what I wanted.
I replied: `Nothing now, brother--hereafter, much.' The time has arrived.I have come to ask for much."
"My dear sir," said Rodin, still impassible, "before we continue this conversation, which appears hitherto tolerably obscure, I must repeat my wish to be informed to whom I have the advantage of speaking.You have introduced yourself here under pretext of a commission from Mynheer Joshua Van Dael, a respectable merchant of Batavia, and--"
"You know the writing of M.Van Dael?" said Faringhea, interrupting Rodin.
"I know it perfectly."
"Look!" The half-caste drew from his pocket (he was shabbily dressed in European clothes) a long dispatch, which he had taken from one Mahal the Smuggler, after strangling him on the beach near Batavia.These papers he placed before Rodin's eyes, but without quitting his hold of them.
"It is, indeed, M.Van Dael's writing," said Rodin, and he stretched out his hard towards the letter, which Faringhea quickly and prudently returned to his pocket.
"Allow me to observe, my dear sir, that you have a singular manner of executing a commission," said Rodin."This letter, being to my address, and having been entrusted to you by M.Van Dael, you ought--"
"This letter was not entrusted to me by M.Van Dael," said Faringhea, interrupting Rodin.
"How, then, is it in your possession?"
"A Javanese smuggler betrayed me.Van Dael had secured a passage to Alexandria for this man, and had given him this letter to carry with him for the European mail.I strangled the smuggler, took the letter, made the passage--and here I am."
The Thug had pronounced these words with an air of savage boasting; his wild, intrepid glance did not quail before the piercing look of Rodin, who, at this strange confession, had hastily raised his head to observe the speaker.
Faringhea thought to astonish or intimidate Rodin by these ferocious words; but, to his great surprise, the socius, impassible as a corpse, said to him, quite simply: "Oh! they strangle people in Java?"
"Yes, there and elsewhere," answered Faringhea, with a bitter smile.
"I would prefer to disbelieve you; but I am surprised at your sincerity M.--, what is your name?"
"Faringhea."
"Well, then, M.Faringhea, what do you wish to come to? You have obtained by an abominable crime, a letter addressed to me, and now you hesitate to deliver it "
"Because I have read it, and it may be useful to me."
"Oh! you have read it?" said Rodin, disconcerted for a moment.Then he resumed: "It is true, that judging by your mode of possessing yourself of other people's correspondence, we cannot expect any great amount of honesty on your part.And pray what have you found so useful to you in this letter?"
"I have found, brother, that you are, like myself, a son of the Good Work."
"Of what good work do you speak" asked Rodin not a little surprised.
Faringhea replied with an expression of bitter irony."Joshua says to you in his letter--`Obedience and courage, secrecy and patience, craft and audacity, union between us, who have the world for our country, the brethren for our family, Rome for our queen.'"
"It is possible that M.Van Dael has written thus to me Pray, sir, what do you conclude from it?"
"We, too, have the world for our country, brother, our accomplices for our family, and for our queen Bowanee."
"I do not know that saint," said Rodin, humbly.
"It is our Rome," answered the Strangler."Van Dael speaks to you of those of your Order, who, scattered over all the earth, labor for the glory of Rome, your queen.Those of our band labor also in divers countries, for the glory of Bowanee."
"And who are these sons of Bowanee, M.Faringhea?"
"Men of resolution, audacious, patient, crafty, obstinate, who, to make the Good Work succeed, would sacrifice country and parents, and sister and brother, and who regard as enemies all not of their band!"
"There seems to be much that is good in the persevering and exclusively religious spirit of such an order," said Rodin, with a modest and sanctified air; "only, one must know your ends and objects."
"The same as your own, brother--we make corpses."[13]
"Corpses!" cried Rodin.
"In this letter," resumed Faringhea, "Van Dael tells you that the greatest glory of your Order is to make `a corpse of man.' Our work also is to make corpses of men.Man's death is sweet to Bowanee."
"But sir," cried Rodin, "M.Van Dael speaks of the soul, of the will, of the mind, which are to be brought down by discipline."
"It is true--you kill the soul, and we the body.Give me your hand, brother, for you also are hunters of men."
"But once more, sir,--understand, that we only meddle with the will, the mind," said Rodin.
"And what are bodies deprived of soul, will, thought, but mere corpses?
Come--come, brother; the dead we make by the cord are not more icy and inanimate than those you make by your discipline.Take my hand, brother;
Rome and Bowanee are sisters."
