d him offer to have
them taken off if he"--with a glance at the Gadfly--"would answer a
question he had asked."

Montanelli clenched his hand on the window-sill, and the soldiers
glanced at one another: they had never seen the gentle Cardinal angry
before. As for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence; he had
forgotten everything except the physical sensation of freedom. He was
cramped in every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and twisted about
in a positive ecstasy of relief.

"You can go now, sergeant," the Cardinal said. "You need not feel
anxious about having committed a breach of discipline; it was your duty
to tell me when I asked you. See that no one disturbs us. I will come
out when I am ready."

When the door had closed behind the soldiers, he leaned on the
window-sill and looked for a while at the sinking sun, so as to leave
the Gadfly a little more breathing time.

"I have heard," he said presently, leaving the window, and sitting down
beside the pallet, "that you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel well
enough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am at your service."

He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious manner that was not
natural to him. Until the straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simply
a grievously wronged and tortured human being; but now he recalled their
last interview, and the deadly insult with which it had closed. The
Gadfly looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm. He possessed
the gift of slipping into graceful attitudes; and when his face was in
shadow no one would have guessed through what deep waters he had been
passing. But, as he looked up, the clear evening light showed how
haggard and colourless he was, and how plainly the trace of the last few
days was stamped on him. Montanelli's anger died away.

"I am afraid you have been terribly ill," he said. "I am sincerely sorry
that I did not know of all this. I would have put a stop to it before."

The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. "All's fair in war," he said coolly.
"Your Eminence objects to straps theoretically, from the Christian
standpoint; but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel to see that.
He, no doubt, would prefer not to try them on his own skin--which is
j-j-just my case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience. At
this moment I am undermost--w-w-what would you have? It is very kind of
Your Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps that was done from the
C-c-christian standpoint,