For the rest the Cardinal had sat watching him out of his narrow eyes, nodding from time to time, putting an occasional question, but listening throughout with great attention.
“And your recommendations, father—-” he had said, and then interrupted himself. “No, that is too much to ask. The Holy Father will speak of that.”
He had congratulated him upon his Latin then—for they had spoken in that language throughout this second interview; and Percy had explained how loyal Catholic England had been in obeying the order, given ten years before, that Latin should become to the Church what Esperanto was becoming to the world.
“That is very well,” said the old man. “His Holiness will be pleased at that.”
At his second tap the door opened and the Cardinal came out, taking him by the arm without a word; and together they turned to the lift entrance.
Percy ventured to make a remark as they slid noiselessly up towards the papal apartment.
“I am surprised at the lift, your Eminence, and the typewriter in the audience-room.”
“Why, father?”
“Why, all the rest of Rome is back in the old days.”
The Cardinal looked at him, puzzled.