When the last paper was read and the last note upon it written out, the Cardinal rose from his arm-chair and went to the window.

There was no sound in the room but that of the sand rattling upon the stiff surface, as Paolo poured it over the wet ink in the old-fashioned way, shook it about and returned it to the little sandbox by the inkstand.

Suddenly the old churchman turned round and faced the priest.
"One of these days, when you and I are asleep out there at San Lorenzo, there will be a fight, my friend," he said.
"About what, Eminence ?" asked the other.
"About silver chalices, perhaps.

About many things.

It will be a great fight, such as the world has never seen before." "I do not understand," said Don Paolo.
"Your brother represents an idea," answered the Cardinal.