He extended his hand to Frangipani, who lifted it respectfully to his lips and withdrew, seeing that he was not wanted.  He and many others speculated long upon the business which engaged his Eminence in close conversation with Giovanni Saracinesca, keeping him for more than a quarter of an hour in the cold ante-chamber, where the night wind blew in unhindered from the vast staircase of the palace.  As a matter of fact, Giovanni was as much surprised as any one.

“Where have you been, my friend?” inquired the Cardinal, when they were alone.

“To Saracinesca, your Eminence.”

“And what have you been doing in Saracinesca at this time of year?  I hope you are attending to the woods there—­you have not been cutting timber?”

“No one can be more anxious than we to see the woods grow thick upon our hills,” replied Giovanni.  “Your Eminence need have no fear.”

“Not for your estates,” said the great Cardinal, his small keen black eyes resting searchingly on Giovanni’s face.  “But I confess I have some fears for yourself.”

“For me, Eminence?” repeated Giovanni, in some astonishment.

“For you.  I have heard with considerable anxiety that there is a question of marrying you to Madame Mayer.  Such a match would not meet with the Holy Father’s approval, nor—­if I may be permitted to mention my humble self in the same breath with our august sovereign—­would it be wise in my own estimation.”

“Permit me to remark to your Eminence,” answered Giovanni, proudly, “that in my house we have never been in the habit of asking advice upon such subjects.  Donna Tullia is a good Catholic.  There can therefore be no valid objection to my asking her hand, if my father and I agree that it is best.”

“You are terrible fellows, you Saracinesca,” returned the Cardinal, blandly.  “I have read your family history with immense interest, and what you say is quite true.  I cannot find an instance on record of your taking the advice of any one—­certainly not of the Holy Church.  It is with the utmost circumspection that I venture to approach the subject with you, and I am sure that you will believe me when I say that my words are not dictated by any officious or meddling spirit; I am addressing you by the direct desire of the Holy Father himself.”

A soft answer turneth away wrath, and if the all-powerful statesman’s answer to Giovanni seems to have been more soft than might have been expected, it must be remembered that he was speaking to the heir of one of the most powerful houses in the Roman State, at a time when the personal friendship of such men as the Saracinesca was of vastly greater importance than it is now.  At that time some twenty noblemen owned a great part of the Pontifical States, and the influence they could exert upon their tenantry was very great, for the feudal system was not extinct, nor the feudal spirit.  Moreover, though Cardinal Antonelli was far from popular with any party, Pius IX. was respected and beloved by a vast majority of the gentlemen as well as of the people.  Giovanni’s first impulse was to resist any interference whatsoever in his affairs; but on receiving the Cardinal’s mild answer to his own somewhat arrogant assertion of independence, he bowed politely and professed himself willing to listen to reason.