Twentieth of
September, celebrating the capture of Rome, the Pope intended to cast a
fresh letter of protest in the face of all the Christian powers, whose
indifference proved their complicity in the odious spoliation of the
Church.

"Yes, indeed! what folly to try and marry the Pope and the King,"
bitterly exclaimed Donna Serafina, alluding to her niece's deplorable
marriage.

The old maid now seemed quite beside herself; it was already so late that
neither Monsignor Nani nor anybody else was expected. However, at the
unhoped-for sound of footsteps her eyes again brightened and turned
feverishly towards the door. But it was only to encounter a final
disappointment. The visitor proved to be Narcisse Habert, who stepped up
to her, apologising for making so late a call. It was Cardinal Sarno, his
uncle by marriage, who had introduced him into this exclusive _salon_,
where he had received a cordial reception on account of his religious
views, which were said to be most uncompromising. If, however, despite
the lateness of the hour, he had ventured to call there that evening, it
was solely on account of Pierre, whom he at once drew on one side.

"I felt sure I should find you here," he said. "Just now I managed to see
my cousin, Monsignor Gamba del Zoppo, and I have some good news for you.
He will see us to-morrow at about eleven in his rooms at the Vatican."
Then, lowering his voice: "I think he will endeavour to conduct you to
the Holy Father. Briefly, the audience seems to me assured."

Pierre was greatly delighted by this promised certainty, which came to
him so suddenly in that dreary drawing-room, where for a couple of hours
he had been gradually sinking into despair! So at last a solution was at
hand!

Meantime Narcisse, after shaking hands with Dario and bowing to Benedetta
and Celia, approached his uncle the Cardinal, who, having rid himself of
the old relation, made up his mind to talk. But his conversation was
confined to the state of his health, and the weather, and sundry
insignificant anecdotes which he had lately heard. Not a word escaped him
respecting the thousand complicated matters with which he dealt at the
Propaganda. It was as though, once outside his office, he plunged into
the commonplace and the unimportant by way of resting from the anxious
task of governing the world. And after he had spoken for a time every one
got up, and the visitors took leave.

"Don't forget," Narcisse repeated to Pierr