He felt
grateful to those wealthy, idle people who supported his well-being; he
made every effort so that they might lack nothing, and overwhelmed
Cotoner with his suggestions. The latter turned on the master with the
arrogance of one who is in authority. His place was inside, with the
guests. He need not mind him, for he knew his duties. And turning his
back on Mariano, he issued orders to the servants and showed the way to
the new arrivals, recognizing their station at a glance. "This way,
gentlemen."

It was a group of musicians and he led them through a servants' hallway
so that they might get to their stands without having to mingle with the
guests. Then he turned to scold a crowd of bakerboys, who were late in
bringing the last shipments of the luncheon and advanced through the
assemblage, raising the great, wicker baskets over the heads of the
ladies.

Cotoner left his place when he saw rising from the stairway a plush hat
with gold tassels over a pale face, then a silk cassock with purple sash
and buttons, flanked by two others, black and modest.

_"Oh, monsignore! Monsignore Orlandi! Va bene? Va bene?"_

He kissed his hand with a profound reverence, and after inquiring
anxiously for his health, as if he had not seen him the day before,
started off, opening a passage way in the crowded drawing-rooms.

"The Nuncio! The Nuncio of His Holiness!"

The men, with the decorum of decent persons, who know how to show
respect for dignitaries, stopped laughing and talking to the ladies, and
bent forward, as he passed, to take that delicate, pale hand, which
looked like the hand of a lady of the olden days, and kiss the huge
stone of its ring. The ladies, with moist eyes, looked for a moment at
Monsignor Orlandi,--a distinguished prelate, a diplomat of the Church,
a noble of the Old Roman nobility,--tall, thin, pale as chalk, with
black hair and imperious eyes in which there was an intense flash of
flame.

He moved with the haughty grace of a bull-fighter. The lips of the women
rested eagerly on his hand, while he gazed with enigmatical eyes at the
line of graceful necks bowed before him. Cotoner continued ahead,
opening a passage, proud of his part, elated at the respect which his
illustrious friend inspired. What a wonderful thing religion was!

He accompanied him to the sacristy, which once was the dressing-room for
the models. He remained outside, discreetly, but every other minute some
one of the Nuncio's at