Several people follow them, filtering, one by one, through the opening in the fence.

Then the tobacconist, conscious that he hides in his breast things fit to cause the downfall of the world, speaks, in the presence of the pyramid of Caio Cestio, rising there indifferent, and waiting for silence, for ruin, for the coming of the wild forests, when the centuries shall have rolled away.

The tobacconist speaks in measured tones, surrounded by some thirty eager faces.

He says the Saint of Jenne Is certainly not in prison, that they do not know where he is, but that they do, alas! know other things! Then he relates the other things! If he had told them to the mob on leaving the tram, they would have torn him to pieces.

At the police-station they laugh at the Saint, and at those who believe in him.