"What news?" said I.
"An order is come from the French general Baraguai d'Hilliers, to let two gentlemen speak with you—undoubtedly two of your friends; and what is still more satisfactory, it is with the consent of the cardinals."
"Do you know the names of these friends of mine?"
"Only one of them, 'Doctor Bambozzi and companion,' so it is written."
"My dear fellow, do you really believe these can be my friends? If they were so, do you think the cardinals would let them speak to me? They did not give this permission to those two who posted all the way from England and France to obtain it. I do not know who Doctor Bambozzi is, and I cannot imagine what he can want with me."
"But if they be not friends, what can they be?"
"Enemies, assuredly. No person sent by the cardinals can have any occasion for an order from a French general."
"It may be a trick—one of those tricks so frequently played off in priestly Rome. Baraguai d'Hilliers does not know the priests; they may be plotting together something to compromise him."
This visit, announced with so much ceremony on Christmas eve, did not take place till the last day of the year. The supposed friends were the Fiscal Judge of the Inquisition, Monsignor Bambozzi, and his Secretary, Avvocato de Dominicis.
Monsignor Bambozzi is one of the most courteous of men. Those who, hearing of the Fiscal Judge of the Inquisition, might picture to themselves an austere man, with a crafty sinister air, would find they were quite mistaken in their idea. No, he is a very polite little man, a sacristan priest, paying compliments to everybody, always smiling, with his snuff-box in his hand ever ready to offer a pinch. The other was a poor needy-looking personage, with nothing unfavourable in his aspect, and evidently following his occupation to earn his bread.