‘I never thought of him, sir,’ was the prompt answer. ‘My eyes were fixed upon one scarcely his inferior in high descent, infinitely above him in all the qualities of mind and intellect, one whose name in the cause would half ensure success, and whose vast resources of thought would be a more precious mine than the wealth of Peru.
‘And he—who is this great and transcendent genius?’ asked the Cardinal, half angrily.
‘His Eminence the Cardinal Leo Gonzales Caraffa!’ said the Père, as he dropped on his knees and pressed his lips fervently to the other’s hand.
The Cardinal’s florid features flushed till they were crimson; and though he tried to speak, no sound came from his lips. A sense of overwhelming astonishment, even more than gratified vanity, had mastered him, and, with a gesture of modest dissent, he raised the priest from the ground.
‘No, no, Massoni,’ said he, in a soft, low tone; ‘these are the promptings of your own affectionate regard for me, not the fruit of that calm reason with which you know so well how to judge your fellow-men.’
‘Read these letters, then, sir,’ said Massoni, placing a packet on the table, ‘and see if my sentiments are not as strong in the hearts of others.’
The Cardinal hesitated to open the documents before him; there was a sort of modest reluctance in his manner which Massoni seemed to understand; for, taking up one of the letters himself, he glanced his eyes along the lines till he came to a particular passage, pointing out which with his finger, he read: ‘“You have among the Cardinals, however, one fully equal to this great task, the Cardinal Caraffa, a man whose political sagacity is not surpassed in Europe, and who, by a good fortune, rare among churchmen, possesses a mind capable of comprehending and directing great military measures. I am informed that he served in Spain.”’
‘Who writes this?’ broke in the Cardinal.
‘The writer is Prince Charles of Hesse.’
‘A brave soldier and an honest man,’ said the Cardinal, with evident pleasure in the words.