“Oh, they n-noticed me enough, but they d-didn't recognize me. Domenichino m-managed the thing capitally. But where is he? I don't see him.”
“He has not come yet. So you got on all smoothly? Did the Cardinal give you his blessing?”
“His blessing? Oh, that's nothing,” said Domenichino, coming in at the door. “Rivarez, you're as full of surprises as a Christmas cake. How many more talents are you going to astonish us with?”
“What is it now?” asked the Gadfly languidly. He was leaning back on a sofa, smoking a cigar. He still wore his pilgrim's dress, but the white beard and wig lay beside him.
“I had no idea you were such an actor. I never saw a thing done so magnificently in my life. You nearly moved His Eminence to tears.”
“How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez.”
The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. He was in a taciturn and laconic mood, and the others, seeing that nothing was to be got out of him, appealed to Domenichino to explain. When the scene in the market-place had been related, one young workman, who had not joined in the laughter of the rest, remarked abruptly:
“It was very clever, of course; but I don't see what good all this play-acting business has done to anybody.”
“Just this much,” the Gadfly put in; “that I can go where I like and do what I like anywhere in this district, and not a single man, woman, or child will ever think of suspecting me. The story will be all over the place by to-morrow, and when I meet a spy he will only think: 'It's mad Diego, that confessed his sins in the market-place.' That is an advantage gained, surely.”
“Yes, I see. Still, I wish the thing could have been done without fooling the Cardinal. He's too good to have that sort of trick played on him.”