"We must not let him go without having a word from him," I answered. "Wait at the sacristy door and speak to him as he comes out, and learn--what you can. I will walk to the aisles yonder, for should he see me he will be suspicious of you. We won't say anything to Daphne about this yet." As I was turning away I caught sight of Daphne, who, having gone the round of the cathedral, was sitting near the picture of the Madonna, with the artist by her side. They were chatting away as confidentially as if there were no one in the world but themselves. The sight of the Italian offering his homage to my beautiful cousin would have moved my jealousy at any other time, but at present my head was occupied with the tableau at the confessional. "Your father will be with us in a few minutes, Daphne," I said, taking a seat beside her. "You have seen all that is to be seen?" "Yes. I have to thank Mr. Vasari for a very interesting lecture. He is quite a learned antiquary, minus the pedantry." "Ah! that last is a stroke at me, I suppose," I returned carelessly, without looking at her. My eyes were directed toward my uncle, whom I could see in the distance, keeping watch by the sacristy door. "May I ask why papa is playing the part of a statue?" Here was a question! But I was equal to the occasion. "He fancies he saw an old friend of his enter that room, and he is waiting for him to come out." "Why doesn't he go in after him?" "Well, if you ask Mr. Vasari, he will perhaps tell you (for he knows better than I) that that is the priest's private room, and naturally your parent is reluctant to intrude." "True, Miss Leslie. It is the sacristy of Father Ignatius." "Father Ignatius? Haven't you mentioned his name once before?" "Yes, it was he who commissioned me to paint my unfortunate Madonna," replied the artist, glancing at the picture above his head. "What sort of a person is this Father Ignatius?" I asked of Angelo, who seemed surprised at my addressing him, as well he might; it was so rarely I did so. "I saw a priest just now with a very remarkable type of head, quite like an antique Roman's--bald, aquiline nose, keen grey eyes, erect, proud----" "Yes, that was Father Ignatius. "A high dignitary of this cathedral, I suppose?" I remarked. "The very highest, save the bishop, whom he quite eclipses by his vigorous personality--supersedes, in point of fact, for the bishop prefers to live at Campo, and leaves the entire control of Church affairs to Father Ignatius." "I see. The bishop is _le roi fainéant_, and Father Ignatius mayor of the palace." "Just so. Yet despite his love of power he is a good man, and every one in Rivoli loves him. He was a second father to me in my boyhood. It was he who first directed and encouraged me in the study of painting, but of late he has looked with disapproval on my art." "What! After your brilliant success?" cried Daphne. "He ought to be proud of his _protégé_."