"Is Father Juna well?"
"Yes, thank God."
"Did he tell you when he will come to see us?"
"He didn't say. Is he called Juna?"
The young man looked at me suspiciously and began to read the note again.
"How then?" he asked me.
"He said his name was Jehudiel."
The young fellow smiled. "That is a nickname which I gave him."
"Oh, the devil," I thought.
His hair was straight and long like a deacons', his face pale. His eyes were a watery blue and he looked as if he did not spring from this dirty spot.