'The Holy Father blessed it; to the one who recites it every day, pardon is granted.'
Brühl murmured something indistinctly by way of thanks, kissed his hand and rose.
Padre Guarini bent over and whispered something in his ear. The page, having nodded in the affirmative, kissed his hand again and went out. The old servant awaited him at the door with a candle. Brühl gave him a thaler, wrapped himself in his mantle and descended the stairs. On reaching the door he looked cautiously down the street, and seeing no one pressed forward. Then he stopped, seeming in doubt as to where to go. He put the rosary which he was holding in his hand in a side pocket, and looked for a familiar house near St Sophia Church.
He glanced round once more. The door was opened. A little oil lamp gave a pale light. The spacious Gothic hall was quiet and solitary. Brühl rang the bell on the first floor. A female servant came and opened it.
'Is the minister at home?' he asked.
'Yes, sir, but he is engaged with visitors.'
'Visitors?' repeated Brühl, hesitating as to what to do. 'Who is there?'
'Some pious young men from Leipzig.'
Brühl was still hesitating, when a dignified middle-aged man appeared in the doorway and conducted him to a further apartment.
'I do not wish to intrude,' said the page, bowing.