She
had told him that the religious _haute_ of Turin much desired the
man chosen by the Vatican, and obnoxious to the Quirinal. The wily
Cardinal--whom she had once met in the salon of a French prelate--had
at first answered only, with that accent of his, neither French nor
Italian:
_"C'est vous qui me dites ca? C'est vous qui me dites ca?"_
In fact, Donna Rosetta had replied, laughing:
_"Oh c'est enorme, je le sais!"_
It was a speech which might cost her husband his title of Excellency.
But then "the most eminent one" had as good as promised her that the
desires of the Turin _haute_ should be satisfied.
_"Ce sera lui, ce sera lui!"_ Finally he had said to her:
_"Comment donc, madame, avez-vous epouse un francmacon? Un des pires,
aussi! Un des pires! Faites lui lire cela!"_
And he had given her a little book on the doctrines of hell and the
inevitable damnation of Freemasons. It was this little book she had cast
at her feet on entering the carriage.
"Fancy my husband reading that rubbish!" she said.
But what was all this to Jeanne? Jeanne was impatient to hear the news
from the Ministry of the Interior.
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