n, looked at the visitor--a big
fellow of a priest, the son of a peasant evidently, and still near to the
soil. He had an ungainly, bony figure, huge feet and knotted hands, with
a seamy tanned face lighted by extremely keen black eyes. Five and forty
and still robust, his chin and cheeks bristling, and his cassock,
overlarge, hanging loosely about his big projecting bones, he suggested a
bandit in disguise. Still there was nothing base about him; the
expression of his face was proud. And in one hand he carried a small
wicker basket carefully covered over with fig-leaves.

Santobono at once bent his knees and kissed the Cardinal's ring, but with
hasty unconcern, as though only some ordinary piece of civility were in
question. Then, with that commingling of respect and familiarity which
the little ones of the world often evince towards the great, he said, "I
beg your most reverend Eminence's forgiveness for having insisted. But
there were people waiting, and I should not have been received if my old
friend Paparelli had not brought me by way of that door. Oh! I have a
very great service to ask of your Eminence, a real service of the heart.
But first of all may I be allowed to offer your Eminence a little
present?"

The Cardinal listened with a grave expression. He had been well
acquainted with Santobono in the years when he had spent the summer at
Frascati, at a princely residence which the Boccaneras had possessed
there--a villa rebuilt in the seventeenth century, surrounded by a
wonderful park, whose famous terrace overlooked the Campagna, stretching
far and bare like the sea. This villa, however, had since been sold, and
on some vineyards, which had fallen to Benedetta's share, Count Prada,
prior to the divorce proceedings, had begun to erect quite a district of
little pleasure houses. In former times, when walking out, the Cardinal
had condescended to enter and rest in the dwelling of Santobono, who
officiated at an antique chapel dedicated to St. Mary of the Fields,
without the town. The priest had his home in a half-ruined building
adjoining this chapel, and the charm of the place was a walled garden
which he cultivated himself with the passion of a true peasant.

"As is my rule every year," said he, placing his basket on the table, "I
wished that your Eminence might taste my figs. They are the first of the
season. I gathered them expressly this morning. You used to be so fond of
them, your Eminence, when you con