“I’m not in a hotel. I’m in private lodgings.”
“God save us! But you must be somewhere.”
“Oh, I’m in a little street which you certainly don’t know,” stuttered Fleurissoire, in great confusion. “It’s of no consequence. I won’t stay on there.”
“Be very careful! If you leave suddenly, it’ll look as if you suspected something.”
“Yes, perhaps it will. You’re right. I had better not leave at once.”
“How I thank a merciful Heaven that you arrived in Rome to-day! One day later and I should have missed you! To-morrow—no later than to-morrow—I’m obliged to leave for Naples in order to see a saintly and important personage, who is secretly devoting himself to the cause.”
“Could it be the Cardinal San-Felice?” asked Fleurissoire, trembling with emotion.
The curé took a step or two back in amazement:
“How did you know?” Then drawing nearer: “But why should I be astonished? He is the only person in Naples who is in the secret.”
“Do you ... know him?”