Below it all, and beyond, lay the Mediterranean, its blue waters now
deepened to indigo, shading into wide lakes of purple, under the
reflection of the setting sun, which, like a great red lantern, seemed
sinking into the sea. A sharp turn inward and upward brought the
conveyance shambling into a little courtyard. It halted before the
doorway of a low, white-washed house smothered in semi-tropical vines,
which extended from the eaves over a pergola built along the wall at the
terrace edge. Beneath this arbor was a rustic seat, on the cushions of
which a big gray cat sat up slowly, and stared at the intruders with
insolent, unwinking eyes.

A woman's voice droned a dirgeful song that had a half Oriental, half
negro suggestion in its monotonous pitch, while from afar, like an echo
over the mountainside, came faintly the wailing cadence of the
_caramella_ of some shepherd boy, and the tinkle of goat bells,
interrupted by the hoot of little owls crying through the dusk.

The bells of the flapping harness settled into silence, the droning
sing-song ceased, and from the stone flagging within came the shuffle
of wooden shoes. An old woman, in the inevitable dark stuff dress of her
class, and the blue apron gay-bordered with red and white, stood in the
doorway. Her big hoop earrings fell to her shoulders, but were partly
hidden by the kerchief which she held over her head with one hand, as if
in fear of a draught, while with the other she still grasped the door
latch.

To Derby's inquiry as to whether His Eminence were at home, she
responded suspiciously--almost contemptuously, as she looked him over
from head to toe. Certainly, His Exaltedness was at home. What should
one of his venerability be doing abroad at such an hour!

Derby's bow was apologetic. Would Signora have the kindness to deliver
the letter which he tendered her?

She turned the envelope over in her hands, looked again at the stranger,
and at last stood aside so that he might enter.

Derby waited in the dim, low-ceilinged passageway, which suggested
anything but the antechamber of an archbishop's palace. Presently a door
opened, a feeble yellow haze filtered into the corridor, and the old
woman reappeared and led Derby into a small, stone-paved apartment
illumined by a single flickering lamp of the most primitive design, by
the light of which the archbishop had evidently been reading. As soon as
Derby entered, the venerable prelate arose. In his long _so