And Protos, who was sitting with his arms crossed on the table, leant across it towards Ciro.
“And if I were to tell him,” said he, “that you are never left alone, night or day, for a single hour!”
“Yes, whatever disguise I put on,” continued the bogus Cardinal, “I can never be sure that some of the secret police aren’t at my heels.”
“What! Do these people here know who you are?”
“You misunderstand him,” said Protos. “You are one of the few persons—and I say it before God—who can pride themselves on establishing any resemblance between Cardinal San-Felice and the modest Bardolotti. But try to understand this—their enemies are not the same! While the Cardinal in his palace has to defend himself against the freemasons, chaplain Bardolotti is threatened by the....”
“Jesuits!” interrupted the chaplain wildly.
“That has not yet been explained to him,” said Protos.
“Ah! If we’ve got the Jesuits against us too!” sobbed Fleurissoire. “But who would have thought it? Are you sure?”
“Reflect a little; you will see it is quite natural. You must understand that the Holy See’s recent policy, all made up as it is of conciliation and compromise, is just the thing to please them and that the last encyclicals are exactly to their taste. Perhaps they are not aware that the Pope who promulgated them is not the real one; but they would be heart-broken if he were changed.”
“If I understand you rightly,” Fleurissoire took him up, “the Jesuits are allied with the freemasons in this affair.”