Nobody more fascinating and decorative could be found among the whole Roman prelacy.
Careful of his person undoubtedly, and aiming at a simple elegance, he looked really superb in his black cassock with violet collar.

And around him the spacious room where he received his visitors, gaily lighted as it was by two large windows facing the Piazza Navona, and furnished with a taste nowadays seldom met with among the Roman clergy, diffused a pleasant odour and formed a setting instinct with kindly cheerfulness.
"Pray sit down, Monsieur l'Abbe Froment," he resumed, "and tell me to what I am indebted for the honour of your visit." He had already recovered his self-possession and assumed a _naif_, purely obliging air; and Pierre, though the question was only natural, and he ought to have foreseen it, suddenly felt greatly embarrassed, more embarrassed indeed than in Cardinal Sarno's presence.

Should he go to the point at once, confess the delicate motive of his visit?
A moment's reflection showed him that this would be the best and worthier course.
"Dear me, Monseigneur," he replied, "I know very well that the step I have taken in calling on you is not usually taken, but it has been advised me, and it has seemed to me that among honest folks there can never be any harm in seeking in all good faith to elucidate the truth." "What is it, what is it, then ?" asked the prelate with an expression of perfect candour, and still continuing to smile.
"Well, simply this.

I have learnt that the Congregation of the Index has handed you my book 'New Rome,' and appointed you to examine it; and I have ventured to present myself before you in case you should have any explanations to ask of me." But Monsignor Fornaro seemed unwilling to hear any more.

He had carried both hands to his head and drawn back, albeit still courteous.