The cardinal went limping down the shop.  He had almost reached the door when he stopped and spoke to a little man who stood behind the show-case in which are the enamels.

“Ah, Signore!” he exclaimed, “how come on the wife and baby?  I meant to see them this afternoon, but I was diverted.  I wish you to continue the same diet for them—­take this”—­and he fumbled in his pocket, but drew a blank.

“Signor Testolini,” he said to the master at his heels, “I find I have no money.  Kindly loan me fifty lire.  Here,” he said to the little man, and he slipped the money into his hand, “plenty of milk for the child;” and he went out of the shop.

“That was not like Napoleon,” said the head clerk; and then he added, “Occasionally one meets with a priest who rises superior to his profession.”

The little man behind the enamel counter said nothing, but he drew his hand across his eyes.

III

The following day was a busy one for the cardinal.  While Pietro was shaving him he parcelled out the hours.

“What time is it, Pietro?” he asked.

“Three minutes past seven, your eminence.”

“Good,” said the cardinal; “at half-past I make my mass; at eight, I take my coffee; from eight to ten, my poor—­by the way, Pietro, is there any money in the house?”

“Yes, your eminence,” said Pietro; “there are eight hundred lire in your desk.”

“Take fifty of them to Signor Testolini, in the Piazza, with my thanks,” said the cardinal, “and put the rest in my purse.  Where was I, Pietro?”

“Your eminence had reached ten o’clock,” replied Pietro.

“From ten to eleven,” continued the cardinal, “audience for the laity; from eleven to half-past, audience for the clergy; half-past eleven, my egg and a salad.  Keep all who look hungry, Pietro, and ask them to take dejeuner with me; at twelve, see the architect who is restoring the altar-rail at St. Margaret’s; take time to write to the Superior at St. Lazzaro in reference to the proof-sheets of the ‘Life of Eusebius’; from one to three, my poor—­we must get some more money, Pietro; from three to four—­”

“There, your eminence!” exclaimed Pietro, “I have cut you.”

“Yes,” said the cardinal; “I was about to mention it.  Where was I?”

“Your eminence was at four o’clock,” replied Pietro.

“Four o’clock already!” exclaimed the cardinal, “and nothing done; from four to half-past four, interview with the treasurer of the diocese.  That’s a bad half-hour, Pietro.  At half-past four I wish the barca to be at the landing.  Have the men wear their least shabby liveries.  I am to visit the English yacht that lies over by St. Giorgio.  You must dress me in my best to-day.”

“Alas, your eminence,” said Pietro, “your best cassock is two years old.”

“How old is the one I wore yesterday?” asked the cardinal.