Leo XIII had at last lowered his eyes.

With frail, ivory hand he took up the glass beside him, again stirred the syrup with the long spoon, and then drank a little of it.

And all this he did gently and slowly, with a prudent, judicious air, as was his wont no doubt in everything.

"I have read your book, my son," he resumed.

"Yes, the greater part of it.