d and scholarly appearance, dressed
en abbe, as was the general habit in Rome and Naples, and holding in one
hand the celebrated blue vase cut in cameo which Sir William had
recently purchased from the Barberini family.

"These reliefs," the stranger was saying, "whether cut in the substance
itself, or afterward affixed to the glass, certainly belong to the
Grecian period of cameo-work, and recall by the purity of their design
the finest carvings of Dioskorides." His beautifully-modulated Italian
was tinged by a slight foreign accent, which seemed to connect him still
more definitely with the episode his voice recalled. Odo turned to a
gentleman at his side and asked the speaker's name.

"That," was the reply, "is the abate de Crucis, a scholar and
cognoscente, as you perceive, and at present attached to the household
of the Papal Nuncio."

Instantly Odo beheld the tumultuous scene in the Duke's apartments, and
heard the indictment of Heiligenstern falling in tranquil accents from
the very lips which were now, in the same tone, discussing the date of a
Greek cameo vase. Even in that moment of disorder he had been struck by
the voice and aspect of the agent of the Holy Office, and by a singular
distinction that seemed to set the man himself above the coil of
passions in which his action was involved. To Odo's spontaneous yet
reflective temper there was something peculiarly impressive in the kind
of detachment which implies, not obtuseness or indifference, but a
higher sensitiveness disciplined by choice. Now he felt a renewed pang
of regret that such qualities should be found in the service of the
opposition; but the feeling was not incompatible with a wish to be more
nearly acquainted with their possessor.

The two years elapsing since Odo's departure from Pianura had widened if
they had not lifted his outlook. If he had lost something of his early
enthusiasm he had exchanged it for a larger experience of cities and
men, and for the self-command born of varied intercourse. He had reached
a point where he was able to survey his past dispassionately and to
disentangle the threads of the intrigue in which he had so nearly lost
his footing. The actual circumstances of his escape were still wrapped
in mystery: he could only conjecture that the Duchess, foreseeing the
course events would take, had planned with Cantapresto to save him in
spite of himself. His nocturnal flight down the river had carried him to
Ponte di Po,