"Because they are poor?" inquired Sarrion, who did not move a step in
response to Evasio Mon's lead.

"Partly," admitted Mon, holding up one finger. "Because, my friend, none
but the foolish are poor in this world."

"Then why has the good God sent so many fools into the world?"

"Because He wants a few saints, I suppose."

Mon was still trying to lead him away from that threshold and Sarrion
still stood his ground. Their half-bantering talk suddenly collapsed, and
they stood looking at each other in silence for a moment. Both were what
may be called "ready" men, quick to catch a thought and answer.

"I will tell you," said Sarrion quietly, "why I am going into this house.
I have long ceased to take an interest in the politics of this poor
country, as you know."

Mon's gesture seemed to indicate that Sarrion had only done what was wise
and sensible in a matter of which it was no longer any use to talk.

"But to my friends I still give a thought," went on the Count. "Two
nights ago a man was attacked in this street--by the usual street
cutthroats, it is to be supposed. I saw it all from my balcony there.
See, from this corner you can perceive the balcony."

He drew Mon to the corner of the street, and pointed out the Sarrion
Palace, gloomy and deserted at the further end of the street.