The Englishman looked at him sharply.

"It is what I wish," he said.

Monsignor collected himself with a violent effort. He could not,
even afterwards, trace the exact process by which he had arrived
so swiftly at his determination. He supposed it was partly the
drama of the situation--the sense that big demands were in the
air; partly nervous excitement; partly a certain distaste with
life that was growing on him; but chiefly and foremost a
passionate and devoted affection for his chief, which he had
never till this instant suspected in himself. He only perceived,
as clearly as in a vision, that this gallant old man must not be
allowed to go alone, and that he--he who had criticized and
rebelled against the brutality of the world--must go with him.

"Your Eminence," he said, "it is impossible, because I must come
with you to Berlin."

The Cardinal smiled and lifted his hand, as if to an
impetuous child.

"My dear fellow----"

Monsignor turned to the other. He felt cool and positive, as if a
breeze had fanned away his excitement.

"You understand, your Eminence, do you not? It is impossible
that the Cardinal should go alone. I am his secretary. I can
arrange everything with . . . with the Rector of the English