Padre Bonaventura was so much pleased with this answer that he actually smiled. It was rather a grim performance of its kind, but it was unmistakably meant to express satisfaction. The Captain had turned out to be the sort of man he had hoped to find.
‘May I say a few words more?’ he asked.
‘Certainly. I must have more details. Does her husband know of this?’
The Capuchin told him the story as he had heard it from Maria’s lips, omitting nothing. He had an extremely good memory. Castiglione noted the names to which the drafts were to be addressed. Padre Bonaventura pointed out that it would be worse than useless to pay the money for reproductions which could be multiplied and used to extort more.
‘Is that all, Father?’ asked Castiglione.
‘I have a word to say, Captain,’ returned the monk, ‘first as one man to another, and then as a priest. So far as the one is concerned we shall agree, for you are evidently a man of honour; as for the rest, I presume your views about priests are those of most young military men.’
‘They are,’ Castiglione admitted.
‘That being the case, we shall probably not agree. But as you, when under orders, would do your duty in your profession, so I must do mine.’
‘That is just. Pray speak freely.’