He had caught hold of the prelate's soft, plump hands, and stammered, "Ah! Monseigneur, how can I express my gratitude to you?
If you only knew how full my soul was of night and rebellion since I realised that I had been a mere plaything in the hands of those powerful cardinals.

But you have saved me, and again I feel sure that I shall win the victory, for I shall at last be able to fling myself at the feet of his Holiness the father of all truth and all justice.

He can but absolve me, I who love him, I who admire him, I who have never battled for aught but his own policy and most cherished ideas.

No, no, it is impossible; he will not sign that judgment; he will not condemn my book!" Releasing his hands, Nani sought to calm him with a fatherly gesture, whilst retaining a faint smile of contempt for such a useless expenditure of enthusiasm.

At last he succeeded, and begged him to retire.