Good morning, Don Matteo--good morning, my
friend."
When Don Matteo was in the street again, he stood still and passed his
hand over his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. His bishop's ring
touched his forehead, and he realized that it was all true. He had not
been half an hour in the archbishop's palace, and when he reached his
own door, he had not been absent an hour from the house.
He found Don Teodoro in the same room and still in the same chair, into
which he had dropped exhausted when Don Matteo had gone out, his head
sunk on his breast, his hands clasped despairingly on his knees. As the
door opened, he looked up with scared eyes, and rose.
"Courage!" exclaimed Don Matteo, patting his shoulder just as he had
done before going out. "I have seen his Eminence."
Don Teodoro looked at him in mute and resigned expectation, and wondered
at his cheerful face. But his friend made him sit down again, and told
him all that had taken place, and then, before Don Teodoro could recover
his astonishment and emotion, he found himself kneeling on the floor and
heard the words of absolution spoken softly over him. A moment later he
felt upon his head the laying of hands and heard those still more
solemn words pronounced over him, which, he had never hoped to hear
said for himself.
When he rose to his feet at last, he saw Don Matteo wrapping up the
bishop's cross and chain and ring in the same piece of clean white paper
in which he kept the old stole.
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