“I guessed as much. When I saw you, I said to myself, that gentleman comes from the provinces. Is it your first visit to Italy?” “My first.” “Have you come on business?” “Yes.” “It’s a lovely place, Rome. There’s a lot to be seen.” “Yes ... but this evening I’m rather tired,” he ventured; and as though excusing himself: “I’ve been travelling for three days.” “It’s a long journey to get here.” “And I haven’t slept for three nights.” At those words, Madame Carola, with a sudden Italian familiarity, which Amédée still couldn’t help being astounded at, chucked him under the chin. “Naughty!” said she. This gesture brought a little blood back into Amédée’s face, and in his desire to repudiate the unfair insinuation, he at once began to expatiate on fleas, bugs and mosquitoes. “You’ll have nothing of that kind here, dearie; you see how clean it is.” “Yes; I hope I shall sleep well.” But still she didn’t go. He rose with difficulty from his arm-chair, raised his hand to the top button of his waistcoat and said tentatively: “I think I’ll go to bed.” Madame Carola understood Fleurissoire’s embarrassment. “You’d like me to leave you for a bit, I see,” said she tactfully. As soon as she had gone, Fleurissoire turned the key in the lock, took his night-shirt out of his portmanteau and got into bed. But apparently the catch of the lock was not working, for before he had time to blow out his candle, Carola’s head reappeared in the half-opened door--behind the bed--close to the bed--smiling.... * * * * * An hour later, when he came to himself, Carola was lying against him, in his arms, naked. He disengaged his left arm, which had “fallen asleep,” and then drew away. She was asleep. A light from the alley below filled the room with its feeble glimmer, and not a sound was to be heard but the woman’s regular breathing. An unwonted languor lay heavy on Amédée’s body and soul; he drew out his thin legs from between the sheets; and sitting on the edge of the bed, he wept. As first his sweat, so now his tears washed his face and mingled with the dust of the railway carriage; they welled up--silently, uninterruptedly, in a slow and steady stream, coming from his inmost depths, as from a hidden spring. He thought of Arnica, of Blafaphas, alas! Ah! if they could see him now! Never again would he dare to take his place beside them. Then he thought of his august mission, for ever compromised; he groaned below his breath: “It’s over! I’m no longer worthy! Oh! it’s over! It’s all over!” The strange sounds of his sobbing and sighing had in the meantime awakened Carola. There he was, kneeling now, at the foot of the bed, hammering on his weakly chest with little blows of his fist; and Carola, lost in amazement, heard him repeat, as his teeth chattered and his sobs shook him: “Save us! Save us! The Church is crumbling!” At last, unable to contain herself any longer: