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"My audience is for this evening." Benedetta did not understand at first. "What audience?" she asked. "Oh! Monsignor Nani was good enough to tell me at the ball this morning, that the Holy Father has read my book and desires to see me. I shall be received this evening at nine o'clock."
And this is what I am instructed to tell you: his Holiness, who has had the great kindness to read your book, expressly desires to see you." A cry of joy and gratitude died away in Pierre's throat: "Ah! Monseigneur. Ah! Monseigneur!" But Nani quickly silenced him and glanced around with an expression of keen anxiety as if he feared that some one might hear them. "Hush!
Then suddenly calming himself and recovering his pleasant smile, Nani added: "At least, that is what I sometimes hear said; for, personally, I know nothing, absolutely nothing; and it is fortunate that Monsieur Habert should have been here to give you information. Ah! Monsieur Habert, Monsieur Habert!
I will see him myself and explain the matter." At the same time Nani did not cease advising extreme caution.
I heard Nani speak of you one Monday, and some time ago I told you that he seemed to know all about you, as if he had made most minute inquiries. My belief is that he had already read your book, and was extremely preoccupied about it." "Do you think that he shares my ideas, then? Is he sincere, is he defending himself while striving to defend me?" "Oh! no, no, not at all.
As Nani knew, despite his apparent nullity, Sarno, with his slow, methodical, ably organised work of conquest, possessed sufficient power to set empires in confusion. "Has your Eminence recovered from that cold which distressed us so much?" asked Nani. "No, no, I still cough. There is a most malignant passage at the offices. I feel as cold as ice as soon as I leave my room."
Pierre at once perceived Monsignor Nani, who was sitting on a low couch, and, as the prelate had hoped, he was quite alone, for the Cotillon had attracted almost everybody to the picture gallery. And the silence in the little salon was nearly perfect, for at that distance the blare of the orchestra subsided into a faint, flute-like murmur.
At this Pierre could not refrain from a dolorous and vivacious interruption. "Alas! Monseigneur, what can I do?" said he; "I have thought it all over, and I see no means, no opportunity of defending myself. How could I even see his Holiness now that he is so ill?" "Oh! ill, ill!" muttered Nani with his shrewd expression.
And thus there might perhaps be some truth in what Don Vigilio, with a shiver of mystery, related about their occult sovereignty, a seizin, as it were, of the government of the Church, a royalty ignored but nevertheless complete. As this idea occurred to Pierre, a dim connection between certain of his experiences arose in his mind and he all at once inquired: "Is Monsignor Nani a Jesuit, then?"
As he spoke he made a slight gesture in which Pierre fancied he could detect a protest against the isolation in which he was kept by those surrounding him, who, as Monsignor Nani had said, maintained a strict watch in order that nothing they objected to might reach him. And thereupon the young priest ventured to say: "I thank your Holiness for having done me so much honour.
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