city--that which had been building for the last five and twenty
years--huge blocks of masonry piled up side by side, still white with
plaster, neither the sun nor history having as yet robed them in purple.
And in particular the roofs of the colossal Palazzo delle Finanze had a
disastrous effect, spreading out like far, bare steppes of cruel
hideousness. And it was upon the desolation and abomination of all the
newly erected piles that the eyes of the old soldier of conquest at last
rested.

Silence ensued. Pierre felt the faint chill of hidden, unacknowledged
sadness pass by, and courteously waited.

"I must beg your pardon for having interrupted you just now," resumed
Orlando; "but it seems to me that we cannot talk about your book to any
good purpose until you have seen and studied Rome closely. You only
arrived yesterday, did you not? Well, stroll about the city, look at
things, question people, and I think that many of your ideas will change.
I shall particularly like to know your impression of the Vatican since
you have cone here solely to see the Pope and defend your book against
the Index. Why should we discuss things to-day, if facts themselves are
calculated to bring you to other views, far more readily than the finest
speeches which I might make? It is understood, you will come to see me
again, and we shall then know what we are talking about, and, maybe,
agree together."

"Why certainly, you are too kind," replied Pierre. "I only came to-day to
express my gratitude to you for having read my book so attentively, and
to pay homage to one of the glories of Italy."

Orlando was not listening, but remained for a moment absorbed in thought,