pitality of the Boccanera mansion.

The Viscount was quite as much astonished as the young priest at these
tidings, and failed to understand why the book should be threatened at
all; however, he prevailed on Pierre to make the journey as a matter of
good policy, becoming himself impassioned for the achievement of a
victory which he counted in anticipation as his own. And so it was easy
to understand the bewildered condition of Pierre, on tumbling into this
unknown mansion, launched into an heroic adventure, the reasons and
circumstances of which were beyond him.

Victorine, however, suddenly resumed: "But I am leaving you here,
Monsieur l'Abbe. Let me conduct you to your rooms. Where is your
luggage?"

Then, when he had shown her his valise which he had placed on the ground
beside him, and explained that having no more than a fortnight's stay in
view he had contented himself with bringing a second cassock and some
linen, she seemed very much surprised.

"A fortnight! You only expect to remain here a fortnight? Well, well,
you'll see."

And then summoning a big devil of a lackey who had ended by making his
appearance, she said: "Take that up into the red room, Giacomo. Will you
kindly follow me, Monsieur l'Abbe?"

Pierre felt quite comforted and inspirited by thus unexpectedly meeting
such a lively, good-natured compatriot in this gloomy Roman "palace."
Whilst crossing the court he listened to her as she related that the
Princess had gone out, and that the Contessina--as Benedetta from motives
of affection was still called in the house, despite her marriage--had not
yet shown herself that morning, being rather poorly. However, added
Victorine, she had her orders.

The staircase was in one corner of the court, under the porticus. It was
a monumental staircase with broad, low steps, the incline being so gentle
that a horse might easily have climbed it. The stone walls, however, were
quite bare, the landings empty and solemn, and a death-like mournfulness
fell from the lofty vault above.

As they reached the first floor, noticing Pierre's emotion, Victorine
smiled. The mansion seemed to be uninhabited; not a sound came from its
closed chambers. Simply pointing to a large oaken door on the right-hand,
the housekeeper remarked: "The wing overlooking the court and the river
is occupied by his Eminence. But he doesn't use a quarter of the rooms.
All the reception-rooms on the side of the street have been shut. How
cou