plunderer, this robber, seizing the funds that extremity has dragged from the poor in order to buy up the grain of the States?  A pretty speculation!  No wonder that you murmur and complain; that you curse him under your breath, that you call him il cardinale affamatore.  And no wonder, if you happen to belong to a great association that has promised to see justice done, no wonder you come to that association and say, ’Masters, why cannot justice be done now?  It is too long to wait for the Millennium.  Remove this oppressor from the face of the earth:  down with the Starving Cardinal!’”

“Yes, yes, yes!” cried Reitzei, excitedly.  Beratinsky sat silent and sullen.  Brand, with some strange foreboding of what was coming, still sat with his hand tight closed on Natalie’s ring.

“More,” continued Lind—­and now, if he was acting, it was a rare piece of acting, for wrath and indignation gathered on his brow, and increased the emphasis of his voice—­“it is not only your purses, it is not only your poor starved homesteadings that are attacked, it is the honor of your women.  Whose sister or daughter is safe?  Mr. Brand, one of your English poets has made the poor cry to the rich,

    “’Our sons are your slaves by day,
      Our daughters your slaves by night.’

But what if some day a poor man—­I will tell you his name—­his name is De Bedros; he is not a peasant, but a helpless, poor old man—­what if this man comes to the great association that I have mentioned and says, wringing his hands, ’My Brothers and Companions, you have sworn to protect the weak and avenge the injured:  what is your oath worth if you do not help me now?  My daughter, my only daughter, has been taken from me, she has been stolen from my side, shrieking with fear, and I thrown bleeding into the ditch.  By whom?  By one who is beyond the law; who laughs at the law; who is the law!  But you—­you will be the avengers.  Too long has this monster outraged the name of Christ and insulted the forbearance of his fellow creatures:  my Brothers, this is what I demand from your hands—­I demand from the SOCIETY OF THE SEVEN STARS—­I demand from you, the Council—­I demand, my Brothers and Companions, a decree of death against the monster Zaccatelli!’”

“Yes, yes, yes, the decree!” shouted Reitzei, all trembling.  “Who could refuse it?  Or I myself—­”

“Gentlemen,” said Lind, calmly, “the decree has been granted.  Here is my authority; read it.”

He held out the paper first of all to Brand, who took it in both his hands, and forced himself to go over it.  But he could not read it very carefully; his heart was beating quickly; he was thinking of a great many things all at once—­of Lord Evelyn, of Natalie, of his oaths to the Society, even of his Berkshire home and the beech-woods.  He handed on the paper to Reitzei, who was far too much excited to read it at all.  Beratinsky merely glanced at it carelessly, and put it back on the table.