"Some flax of his hair shirt, to coil a rope therewith," replied the monk.
"A princely benefaction! But your commission for the Father of Christendom? For indeed I fear the vast treasures he has heaped up, will hang like a leaden mountain on his ascending soul."
"The Holy Father himself has summoned me to Rome!" The words seemed to sound from nowhere. Yet they hovered on the air like the knell of Fate.
The Grand-Chamberlain paused, stared and shuddered.
"And who knows," continued the monk after a pause, "but that by some divine dispensation all the refractory cardinals of the Sacred College may contract some incurable disease? Have you secured the names,—just to ascertain if their households are well ordered?"
"The name of every cardinal and bishop in Rome at the present hour."
"Give it to me."
A hand white as that of a corpse came from the monk's ample parting sleeves in which Benilo placed a scroll, which he had taken from the table.
The monk unrolled it. After glancing down the list of names, he said:
"The Cardinal of Gregorio."