Massoni welcomed him with a courteous and respectful tone, and conducted him to a seat.
‘This is a meeting I have long and ardently desired, sir,’ said the Père, in the voice of one to whom the arts of the courtier were not unknown; ‘nor am I the only one here who has cherished this wish.’
A faint smile, half gracious half surprised, acknowledged this speech, and Carrol watched with a painful anxiety even this mark of recognition.
‘The Chevalier is fatigued to-night, reverend father,’ said he; ‘his endeavours to fulfil our wishes have cost him much exertion and weariness. We have journeyed day and night from Geneva.’
‘In this ardour he has only given us a deeper pledge of his high deservings. May I offer you some refreshments, sir?’ said he, hastily, struck by the weak pallor of the young man’s countenance.
A gentle gesture of refusal declined the offer.
‘Shall I show you to your room, then?’ said the Père, rising and opening a door into a small chamber adjoining; ‘my servant will attend you.’
‘No,’ said the youth faintly. ‘Let us proceed with our journey; I will not rest till I reach Rome.’
‘But you are at Rome, sir; we are at our journey’s end,’ said Carrol.
The young man heard the words without emotion—the same sad smile upon his lips.