ut the usher was dozing again, and was only roused by the return
of the _delegato_, who ordered him to conduct Benedetto to the Signor
Commendatore. [Footnote: Commendatore: a title borne by those upon whom
certain Italian orders have been conferred.--_Translator's Note_.]

Benedetto was introduced into a spacious apartment, all dark save in
one corner, where a gentleman about fifty years of age sat reading the
_Tribuna_ by the light of an electric lamp, which shone upon his bald
head, upon the newspaper, and upon the table, littered with documents.
Above him, in the dim light, a large portrait of the King was dimly
visible.

He did not at once raise his head--heavy with conscious power--from
the newspaper. He raised it when he felt inclined to do so, and looked
carelessly at this atom of the people who stood before him.

"Be seated," he said in a frigid tone.

Benedetto obeyed.

"You are Signor Maironi?"

"Yes, sir."

"I am sorry to have troubled you, but it was necessary."

There was harshness and sarcasm underlying the Signor Commendatore's
courteous words.

"By the way," he said, "why are you not called by your real name?"

Benedetto did not answer this unexpected question at once.

"Well, well," his interlocutor continued. "It is not of much importance
at present. We are not in a court of justice. I hold that if one is
going to do good, it is best to do it in one's own name. But then I do
not go to church, and my views differ from yours. However, as I said
before, it is of no importance. Do you know who I am? Did the _delegato_
tell you?"

"No, sir."

"Very well, then; I am a functionary of the State, who takes some
interest in the public security, and who has a certain amount of
power--yes, a certain amount of power. Now I am going to prove to you
that I take an interest in you also. I regret to say, you are in a
critical position, my dear Signor Maironi, or Signor Benedetto, at your
choice. An accusation of a really serious nature has been lodged
against you with the judicial authorities, and I see that not only your
reputation for saintliness is in danger, but also your personal liberty,
and hence your preaching, at least for several years."

A flame spread over Benedetto's face, and his eyes flashed.

"Leave the saintliness and the reputation alone," said he.

The august functionary of the State continued, unmoved:

"I have wounded you. But you must know that your reputation for
saintlines