“First of all, I had entirely to give up any idea of presenting my petition myself; it was a neat roll of paper. But as soon as I got to the second antechamber (or the third, I forget which), a great big fellow, dressed up in black and red, politely removed it.” Amédée began to chuckle like a person with private information who knows there is good reason to laugh. “In the next antechamber, I was relieved of my hat, which they put on a table. In the fifth or sixth, I waited for a long time in the company of two ladies and three prelates, and then a kind of chamberlain came and ushered me into the next room, where as soon as I was in the presence of the Holy Father (he was perched, as far as I could see, on a throne with a sort of canopy over it) he instructed me to prostrate myself--which I did--so that I saw nothing more.” “But surely you didn’t keep your head bowed down so low that....” “My dear Amédée, it’s all very well for you to talk; don’t you know that one can be struck blind with awe? And not only didn’t I dare raise my head, but every time I tried to speak of Anthime, a kind of major-domo, with a species of ruler, gave me a little tap on the back of my neck, which made me bow it again.” “But at any rate, did _he_ speak to you?” “Yes, about my book, which he admitted he hadn’t read.” “My dear Julius,” said Amédée, after a moment’s silence, “what you have just told me is of the highest importance. So you didn’t see him! And from your whole account one thing stands out clear--that there’s a mysterious difficulty about seeing him. Alas! all my cruellest apprehensions are confirmed. Julius, I must now tell you ... but come along here--this street is so crowded....” He dragged him into an almost deserted _vicolo_, and Julius, amused rather than otherwise, made no resistance. “What I am going to confide to you is so grave.... Whatever you do, don’t make any sign. Let’s look as if we weren’t talking about anything important and make up your mind to hear something terrible.--Julius, my dear friend, the person you saw this morning....” “Whom I didn’t see, you mean.” “Exactly ... is not the _real one_.” “I beg your pardon?” “I tell you that you can’t have seen the Pope, for the monstrous reason that ... I have it from a secret and unimpeachable source--the real Pope has been kidnapped.” This astonishing revelation had the most unexpected effect upon Julius. He suddenly let go Amédée’s arm, and running on ahead, he called out at the top of his voice right across the _vicolo_: “Oh, no! no! Not that! Good God! No! Not that!” Then, drawing near Amédée again: