from the cage.

The minister went on writing the note upon his knee.

The secretaries redoubled their silent zeal, when suddenly the two wings
of the door were thrown back and showed, standing in the opening, a
Capuchin, who, bowing, with his arms crossed over his breast, seemed
waiting for alms or for an order to retire. He had a dark complexion,
and was deeply pitted with smallpox; his eyes, mild, but somewhat
squinting, were almost hidden by his thick eyebrows, which met in the
middle of his forehead; on his mouth played a crafty, mischievous, and
sinister smile; his beard was straight and red, and his costume was that
of the order of St. Francis in all its repulsiveness, with sandals on
his bare feet, that looked altogether unfit to tread upon carpet.

Such as he was, however, this personage appeared to create a great
sensation throughout the room; for, without finishing the phrase, the
line, or even the word begun, every person rose and went out by the door
where he was still standing--some saluting him as they passed, others
turning away their heads, and the young pages holding their fingers to
their noses, but not till they were behind him, for they seemed to have
a secret fear of him. When they had all passed out, he entered, making a
profound reverence, because the door was still open; but, as soon as
it was shut, unceremoniously advancing, he seated himself near the
Cardinal, who, having recognized him by the general movement he created,
saluted him with a dry and silent inclination of the head, regarding
him fixedly, as if awaiting some news and unable to avoid knitting his
brows, as at the aspect of a spider or some other disagreeable creature.

The Cardinal could not resist this movement of displeasure, because
he felt himself obliged, by the presence of his agent, to resume those
profound and painful conversations from which he had for some days
been free, in a country whose pure air, favorable to him, had somewhat
soothed the pain of his malady; that malady had changed to a slow fever,
but its intervals were long enough to enable him to forget during its
absence that it must return. Giving, therefore, a little rest to his
hitherto indefatigable mind, he had been awaiting, for the first time in
his life perhaps, without impatience, the return of the couriers he had
sent in all directions, like the rays of a sun which alone gave life and
movement to France. He had not expected the visit he now received,