About this time an important sociological congress summoned Count Julius de Baraglioul back to Rome. He was not perhaps specially invited (his opinions on such subjects being founded more on conviction than knowledge), but he was glad to have this opportunity of getting into touch with one or two illustrious personages. And as Milan lay conveniently on his road--Milan where, as we know, the Armand-Dubois had gone to live on the advice of Father Anselm--he determined to take advantage of the circumstance in order to see his brother-in-law. On the same day that Fleurissoire left Pau, Julius knocked at Anthime’s door. He was shown into a wretched apartment consisting of three rooms--if the dark closet where Veronica herself cooked the few vegetables which formed their chief diet, may be counted as a room. The little light there was came from a narrow court-yard and shone down dismally from a hideous metal reflector; Julius preferred to keep his hat in his hand rather than set it down on the oval table with its covering of doubtfully clean oilcloth, and remained standing because of the horror with which the horsehair chairs inspired him. He seized Anthime by the arm and exclaimed: “My poor fellow, you can’t stay here.” “What are you pitying me for?” asked Anthime. Veronica came hurrying up at the sound of their voices. “Would you believe it, my dear Julius?--that is the only thing he finds to say in spite of the grossly unjust and unfair way in which we have been treated.” “Who suggested your coming to Milan?” “Father Anselm; but in any case we couldn’t have kept on the Via in Lucina apartment.” “There was no need for us to keep it on,” said Anthime. “That’s not the point. Father Anselm promised you compensation. Is he aware of your distress?” “He pretends not to be,” said Veronica. “You must complain to the Bishop of Tarbes.” “Anthime has done so.” “What did he say?” “He is a worthy man; he earnestly encouraged me in my faith.” “But since you have been here, haven’t you complained to anyone?” “I just missed seeing Cardinal Pazzi, who had shown some interest in my case and to whom I had written; he did come to Milan, but he sent me word by his footman....” “That a fit of the gout unfortunately kept him to his room.” “But it’s abominable! Rampolla must be told!” cried Julius. “Told what, my dear friend? It is true that I am somewhat reduced--but what need have we of more? In the time of my prosperity I was astray; I was a sinner; I was ill. Now, you see, I am cured. Formerly you had good cause to pity me. And yet you know well enough that worldly goods turn us aside from God.” “Yes, but those worldly goods were yours by rights. It’s all very well that the Church should teach you to despise them, but not that she should cheat you of them.”