At this moment a bell rung, apparently in the adjoining apartment.
Calabressa jumped from his chair, and hastened to a door on his left,
which he opened. A _portiere_ prevented anything being seen in the
chamber beyond.

"Has the summons been answered?" a voice asked, from the other side.

"Yes, sir," said Calabressa. "Brother Lind is here."

"That is well."

The door was again shut, and Calabressa resumed his seat.

"Brother Lind," said he, in a low voice, though he leaned back in his
chair, and still preserved that gay manner, "I suppose you do not know
why you have been summoned?"

"Not I."

"_Bien._ But suppose one were to guess? Suppose there is a gentleman
somewhere about who has been carrying his outraging of one's common
notions of decency just a little too far? Suppose it is necessary to
make an example? You may be noble, and have great wealth, and honor, and
smiles from beautiful women; but if some night you find a little bit of
steel getting into your heart, or if some morning you find your coffee
as you drink it burn all the way down until you can feel it burn no
more--what then? You must bid good-bye to your mistresses, and to your
gold plates and feasts, and your fountains spouting perfumes, and all
your titles; is not that so?"