Meanwhile, the good Felix himself was very sorely troubled.  During his sojourn in Rome, he had grown thinner and paler, and the fine, spiritual delicacy of his features had become more intensified, while his clear blue eyes shone from under their deeply arched brows with a flashing luminance that was almost unearthly.  Often, when about to enter his room with unthinking haste, his brother-in-law, Prince Pietro, would see him kneeling before his crucifix absorbed, one might almost say entranced, in prayer.  And he would softly move away again with a deep sense of awe, and a feeling that some higher power than any on earth, sustained the venerable prelate, and inspired both his words and actions.  But with all his patient, sometimes passionate prayer, earnest meditations, and constant study of the Gospels, the Cardinal himself was more or less heavy-hearted,—­and his Master’s phrase—­“My soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death!” was one which he often breathed in the solitude and extremity of his own position.  The news of the disappearance of Claude Cazeau had materially added to his difficulties—­and now he had been commanded, with a certain peremptoriness in the summons, to wait upon the Sovereign Pontiff in a private audience, bringing with him the boy who could, or would give no further account of himself than that of a world’s waif and stray.  Prepared for this visit and arrayed in all the splendour befitting his rank in the Church, the gentle old man looked paler and more fragile than ever, and the vague trouble he felt at the express injunction laid upon him concerning Manuel, showed itself in the deep furrows of anxiety marked upon his brow, and the pain in his thoughtful eyes.  Prince Pietro’s own man-servant had assisted him to dress for the impending ceremonial, and just as the last folds of his regal attire were being set in place a knock was heard at the door of his apartment, and Prince Pietro himself entered.

“A telegram for you, brother Felix,” he said, “I have brought it myself, thinking it may perhaps immediately concern your visit to the Pope to-day.”

The Cardinal, with a gentle word of thanks, opened the envelope handed to him.

“Praise be to God!” he said simply, as he read its contents, “Vergniaud has passed to the Higher tribunal!”

And he crossed himself reverently on brow and breast.

“Dead?” exclaimed Sovrani.

“To this world, yes!” answered Bonpre, “He died peacefully last night.  This message is from his son.”

A faint ironical smile flickered over Sovrani’s dark features.

“The ban of excommunication has not been declared!” he said, “It will be a somewhat belated announcement!”

Cardinal Bonpre folded the telegram, ready to take with him to the Vatican.

“The Church can excommunicate even the dead!” he said sorrowfully, “If such an extreme measure is judged politic it will doubtless be carried out!”