For an instant I stood there, swaying upon my feet as though from sickness, staring at him incredulously.

His thin, pale, effeminate face was rendered wonderfully piteous by the depth of suffering so plainly revealed within the great, black, appealing eyes.
So peculiarly delicate were the features, so slender the fragile form, about which a frayed and rusty robe clung loosely, that for a moment I actually believed I was looking upon a young girl.

So strong was this impression that I drew back, almost abashed.

This slight pause enabled Cairnes to regain his feet and press past me.

As his eager glance fell upon that slender, crouching figure, I observed how suddenly his eyes hardened, his whole expression changed.
"You are a priest of Rome!" he exclaimed harshly, staring down.
The white, girlish face brightened instantly, the two thin hands plucking forth from some fold in the tattered robe a small silver crucifix.