Monsignor related afterwards what an extraordinary moment that had been.  His nerves were already tight-stretched and his expectation was at the highest; but the face of this man who now looked at him (tremendous though he knew such a personality must be, which could conceive and drive through such a revolt as this),—­the face of him was beyond all imagining.

In the fashion of the day it was clean-shaven, and the absence of hair, except where that of his head framed the face, increased the impressions of those lines and shadow.  It was a priestly face, saw Monsignor, with all the power and searchingness of one who can deal with living souls; but the face of a fallen priest.  In complexion it was sallow, but the sallowness of health, not of weakness; full-shaped, but without being fat; the lips were straight and thin, the nose sharp and jutting and well curved, and the black eyes blazed at him with immense power from beneath heavy brows.  His hair was brushed straight back from the forehead, and fell rather long behind.  The face resembled a carefully modelled mask, through the eyes of which alone the tremendous life was visible.

The priest met those eyes straight for an instant, then he lowered his own, knowing that he could not be wholly himself if he looked that man in the face.

He was surprised to hear words of English uttered.  He looked up again, and there was Hardy speaking, from beside the President’s chair.

“Monsignor, you would not answer me just now.  Now that I am speaking in the Council’s name, will you consent to do so?”

“I will answer what I think right to answer.”

There was a touch of amusement in Hardy’s voice as he went on.

“You need not be afraid, Monsignor.  We do not extort answers by the rack.  I only wished to know if you would be reasonable.”

The priest said nothing.

“Very good, then. . . .  First we will tell you our intentions.  At midnight, as you know, we keep our word, and the Emperor will have to go the way of the others.  It is regrettable, but the Christians do not seem to understand even yet that we are in earnest.  You will have to be present at that scene, I am sorry to say; but you can comfort yourself by ministering to your co-religionist.  He has not had a priest admitted to him since his arrest.

“Immediately afterwards you will be set at liberty, and put on board the air-boat on which you travelled from Rome, with the same driver who brought you here, on one single condition.  That condition is that you go straight to the Holy Father, tell him all that you have seen, and take with you one or two little objects.”

He paused and beckoned to some one behind.  A man came forward with a little box which he laid on the table.  Hardy opened it.

“This is the box you are to take.  Yes; I see that you recognize them.  They are the biretta, the skullcap, the cross, and the ring of the late Cardinal Bellairs.  There are also in this box the ring and a medal belonging to the late Prince Otteone. . . .  You will take these with you as pledges of what you say. . . .  Will you consent to do this?”