"Signor Squadra," he said to them.
One of the Guards thereupon slowly rose and left the hall, and Pierre understood that he was to wait.

He did not dare to move, disturbed as he was by the sound of his own footsteps on the paved floor, so he contented himself with gazing around and picturing the crowds which at times peopled that vast apartment, the first of the many papal ante-chambers.
But before long the Guard returned, and behind him, on the threshold of the adjoining room, appeared a man of forty or thereabouts, who was clad in black from head to foot and suggested a cross between a butler and a beadle.

He had a good-looking, clean-shaven face, with somewhat pronounced nose and large, clear, fixed eyes.

"Signor Squadra," said Pierre for the last time.
The man bowed as if to say that he was Signor Squadra, and then, with a fresh reverence, he invited the priest to follow him.

Thereupon at a leisurely step, one behind the other, they began to thread the interminable suite of waiting-rooms.