"I could not be
mistaken, Excellency."
"He does not know who I am, or he would not ask for me by that name.
Does he look poor? It must be for charity."
"So, so, Excellency. He had an old cloak, but his face is that of an
honest man."
"Give him ten francs," said Veronica, rising to get her pocket-book.
"And tell him that I am sorry that I cannot receive him."
The servant took the note, and disappeared. In three minutes he came
back.
"He does not want money, Excellency," he said. "He says he is the
Reverend Teodoro Maresca, curate of your Excellency's church in Muro,
and begs you earnestly to receive him."
Veronica rose again. She knew Don Teodoro by name, for Bosio had often
spoken of him to her, as his former tutor and his friend. It was for
Bosio's sake that he had come--that was clear. Veronica asked where her
aunt was, and on hearing that Matilde had retired to her own room, she
told the servant to bring Don Teodoro to the yellow drawing-room.
A moment later she followed. The tall priest was standing with bent head
before the fireplace, on the very spot where so much had happened during
the last two days. He held his three-cornered hat in one hand, and was
stretching out the other to warm it at the low flame. Veronica was a
little startled by his face and extraordinary features, but he looked at
her clearly and steadily through his big silver spectacles, and he had a
venerable air which she liked. She noticed that when she advanced
towards him, he bowed like a man of the world, and not at all like a
country priest.
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