When the young man drew himself up again he found the two black diamonds, those two eyes which were all brightness and intelligence, still riveted on him.
But at last Leo XIII, who had been unwilling to spare the young priest the humble duty of kissing his foot and who now left him standing, began to speak, whilst still examining him, probing, as it were, his very soul.
"My son," he said, "you greatly desired to see me, and I consented to afford you that satisfaction." He spoke in French, somewhat uncertain French, pronounced after the Italian fashion, and so slowly did he articulate each sentence that one could have written it down like so much dictation.

And his voice, as Pierre had previously noticed, was strong and nasal, one of those full voices which people are surprised to hear coming from debile and apparently bloodless and breathless frames.
In response to the Holy Father's remark Pierre contented himself with bowing, knowing that respect required him to wait for a direct answer before speaking.

However, this question promptly came.

"You live in Paris ?" asked Leo XIII.
"Yes, Holy Father." "Are you attached to one of the great parishes of the city ?" "No, Holy Father.

I simply officiate at the little church of Neuilly." "Ah, yes, Neuilly, that is in the direction of the Bois de Boulogne, is it not?
And how old are you, my son ?" "Thirty-four, Holy Father." A short interval followed.