The cardinal went out of the church, the turquoise cup under his cassock. He crossed the Piazza slowly, for he was both limping and thinking. He came to the shop of Testolini, the jeweller, under the North arcade, paused a moment, and entered. The clerks behind the counters sprang to their feet and bowed low.
"Signor Testolini?" asked the cardinal; "is he within?"
"Yes, your eminence," said the head clerk. "He is in his bureau. I will summon him."
"No," said the cardinal, "if he is alone I will go in," and he opened the door at the back of the shop and closed it behind him. In ten minutes he came out again. Signor Testolini followed, rubbing his hands and bowing at each step.
"Perfectly, your eminence," he said. "I quite understand."
"It must be in my hands in ten days," said the cardinal.
"Ten days!" exclaimed Testolini; "impossible."
"What is that strange word?" said the cardinal; "it must be a vulgarism of New Italy, that 'impossible.' I do not like it and I will thank you not to use it again when speaking to me. In ten days, Signore."
"Yes, your eminence," said Testolini, "but it will be in the afternoon."
"In ten days," said the cardinal, very quietly.