I saw a frail little man with a long, yellow face and sunken fanatical eyes, an Inquisitor, an unfrocked monk.

One missed a rosary from his thin fingers.

He gazed at me terribly and I couldn't imagine what he might want.

I waited for him to pull out a crucifix and sentence me to the stake there and then.

But no; he dropped his eyes and in a cold, righteous sort of voice informed me that he had called on behalf of the prince--he called him His Majesty.