receive him."

The servant took the note, and disappeared. In three minutes he came
back.

"He does not want money, Excellency," he said. "He says he is the
Reverend Teodoro Maresca, curate of your Excellency's church in Muro,
and begs you earnestly to receive him."

Veronica rose again. She knew Don Teodoro by name, for Bosio had often
spoken of him to her, as his former tutor and his friend. It was for
Bosio's sake that he had come--that was clear. Veronica asked where her
aunt was, and on hearing that Matilde had retired to her own room, she
told the servant to bring Don Teodoro to the yellow drawing-room.

A moment later she followed. The tall priest was standing with bent head
before the fireplace, on the very spot where so much had happened during
the last two days. He held his three-cornered hat in one hand, and was
stretching out the other to warm it at the low flame. Veronica was a
little startled by his face and extraordinary features, but he looked at
her clearly and steadily through his big silver spectacles, and he had a
venerable air which she liked. She noticed that when she advanced
towards him, he bowed like a man of the world, and not at all like a
country priest.

"I thank you for receiving me, princess," he said, gravely. "I have
heard the sad news. I was Bosio's friend for many years. I spent an hour
with him only the day before yesterday, during which he told me much
about himself and about you. If, before he died, he told you nothing of
what he told me, as I think probable, it is necessary for you to know it
all from me as soon as possible. Forgive me for speaking hurriedly and
abruptly. The case is urgent, and dangerous for you. Shall we be
interrupted here?"

"I think not," said Veronica, considerably surprised by his manner. "But
of course--" she paused doubtingly.

"Have you a room of your own, where you could receive me?" asked the old
man, without hesitation.

"Yes--that is--I should not like to--"

"I am an old priest, princess, and this is a time of confusion in the
house. You can risk something. It is important. Besides, I am in your
own service," he added, with a quiet smile. "I am the chaplain of your
castle at Muro."

"Yes--that is true." Veronica looked at him with a little curiosity, for
she had never been to Muro, and it was interesting to see one of her
dependents of whom she had often heard. "Come," she said suddenly. "We
shall meet no one, except my maid, perhaps--El