"Well—I—am!... Thanks. I'll be down in a minute."
George put his writing-board away and brushed the front of his blue linen jacket, mentally and corporeally pulling himself together.
"Flavio, I should just like to know the meaning of this. I rather wish that I had Iulo here to back me up. If they are meditating mischief, an athletic and quarrelsome youngster, with an eye like a basilisk and a mouth full of torrential English, would be an excellent trump to play. Mischief? What nonsense! Don't you give way to your nerves, man. Respectable epistatai do not habitually engage in mischief, as you are well aware. You have nothing to fear: so put on a mask—the superior one with a tinge of disdain in it—and brace yourself up to resist the devil; and go downstairs at once to see him flee."
The two visitors were in the dining-room, a confined drab and aniline room rather over-filled with indistinct but useful furniture. When George entered, they stood up—grave important men, of over forty and seventy years respectively, dark-haired and robust, white-haired and of picturesque and supercilious mien. George went straight to the younger prelate: kneeled; and kissed the episcopal ring.
"Your Eminency will understand that I do not wish to be disrespectful," he said to the senior, with as much quiet antipathy as could be crowded into one man's voice: "but the Bishop of Caerleon calls himself my friend; and I am at a loss to know to what I may attribute the honour of Your Eminency's presence, or the manner in which you will allow me to receive you."
"I hope, Mr. Rose, that you will accept my blessing as well as Dr. Talacryn's," the Cardinal-Archbishop replied in a voice where hauteur strangely struggled with timidity. He extended his hand. George instantly took it; and respectfully kneeled again, noting that this ring contained a cameo instead of the cardinalitial sapphire. Then he caused his guests to become seated. The atmosphere seemed to him laden with the invigorating aroma of possibilities.
"Zmnts[1] wishes to ask you a few questions," the young bishop began; "and he thought you would not take it amiss if I were present as your friend."
George shot a glance of would-be affectionate gratitude at the speaker; and turned, saying "I have been imagining Your Eminency in Rome—in the Conclave."
"I was there until a fortnight ago; and then,—well, you are said to be an expert in the annals of conclaves, Mr. Rose, so it will interest you to know that we stand adjourned."
"For the removal of the Conclave from Rome?"