The result of the strange dialogue between Abbé Ninfo's sharp eyes and the eloquent eyebrows of his eminence, was that the abbé turned suddenly to Michel and motioned to him to draw near. Michel was strongly tempted to do nothing of the sort, and to compel the abbé to walk to him; but the Sicilian spirit suddenly awoke in him, and he stood on his guard. He recalled all that his father had told him of the dangers to be dreaded from the wrath of a certain cardinal, and, although he could not tell whether the man before him was paralyzed or not, it suddenly occurred to him that he might very well be Cardinal Hieronymo, of Palmarosa. Thereupon he determined to dissemble, and he approached the gilded, decorated chair adorned with his eminence's crest. "What are you doing at this gate?" the abbé demanded in a surly tone. "Are you of the household?" "No, your excellency," replied Michel, with apparent tranquillity, although he was tempted to strike his questioner. "I am passing by." The abbé glanced into the chair, and apparently he was given to understand that it was useless to intimidate wayfarers, for he suddenly changed his tone and manner as he turned again to Michel. "My friend," he said benignantly, "you seem unfortunate; are you a mechanic?" "Yes, your excellency," said Michel, resolved to speak as little as possible. "And you are fatigued? you have come a long distance?" "Yes, your excellency." "But you are strong for your years. How old are you?" "Twenty-one." Michel could safely risk that falsehood; for, although he had as yet no beard on his chin, he had attained his full growth, and his active and restless brain had already caused him to lose the first bloom of youth. In this last reply he complied with a special injunction which his father had laid upon him when they parted, and which came to his mind most opportunely: "If you come to Sicily to join me one day or another," said old Pier-Angelo, "remember that, until you have actually joined me, you must not say a word of truth in reply to people who seem to you curious and inquisitive. Tell them neither your name, nor your age, nor your profession, nor mine, nor whence you come, nor whither you are going. The police are more meddlesome than shrewd. Lie boldly and have no fear." "If my father should hear me," thought Michel, after he had thus distinguished himself, "he would be satisfied with me." "It is well," said the abbé, and he stepped away from the prelate's door, so that the latter could see the poor devil who had thus attracted his attention. Michel's eyes met the moribund's terrible glance, and he thereupon felt more distrust and aversion than respect for that narrow and despotic brow. Warned by an inward presentiment that he was in a dangerous position, he changed the customary expression of his face, and substituting sheepishness for pride therein, he bent his knee, hung his head in order to escape the prelate's scrutiny, and pretended to await his benediction.