ubdue: "Very
intimate--oh! no, no--they see one another when they can't do otherwise."
Then he explained that considerable deference was shown to Cardinal
Boccanera's high birth, and that his colleagues often met at his
residence, when, as happened to be the case that morning, any grave
affair presented itself, requiring an interview apart from the usual
official meetings. Cardinal Sanguinetti, he added, was the son of a petty
medical man of Viterbo. "No, no," he concluded, "their Eminences are not
at all intimate. It is difficult for men to agree when they have neither
the same ideas nor the same character, especially too when they are in
each other's way."
Don Vigilio spoke these last words in a lower tone, as if talking to
himself and still retaining his sharp smile. But Pierre scarcely
listened, absorbed as he was in his own worries. "Perhaps they have met
to discuss some affair connected with the Index?" said he.
Don Vigilio must have known the object of the meeting. However, he merely
replied that, if the Index had been in question, the meeting would have
taken place at the residence of the Prefect of that Congregation.
Thereupon Pierre, yielding to his impatience, was obliged to put a
straight question. "You know of my affair--the affair of my book," he
said. "Well, as his Eminence is a member of the Congregation, and all the
documents pass through your hands, you might be able to give me some
useful information. I know nothing as yet and am so anxious to know!"
At this Don Vigilio relapsed into scared disquietude. He stammered,
saying that he had not seen any documents, which was true. "Nothing has
yet reached us," he added; "I assure you I know nothing."
Then, as the other persisted, he signed to him to keep quiet, and again
turned to his writing, glancing furtively towards the second ante-room as
if he believed that Abbe Paparelli was listening. He had certainly said
too much, he thought, and he made himself very small, crouching over the
table, and melting, fading away in his dim corner.
Pierre again fell into a reverie, a prey to all the mystery which
enveloped him--the sleepy, antique sadness of his surroundings. Long
minutes went by; it was nearly eleven when the sound of a door opening
and a buzz of voices roused him. Then he bowed respectfully to Cardinal
Sanguinetti, who went off accompanied by another cardinal, a very thin
and tall man, with a grey, bony, ascetic face. Neither of them, howev
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