The two chatted pleasantly about other things as they returned to the convent, and the little Frenchwoman trotted contentedly back to her lodgings, feeling that the person she loved best in the world was certain to turn out a very good and happy nun.
Angela was not yet so sure of this, and she took the first opportunity of consulting Monsignor Saracinesca.

They sat and talked together on one of the stone seats in the cloistered garden.

He is a tall, thin man, with a thoughtful face and a quiet manner.

In his youth he was once entangled in the quarrels of a Sicilian family, as I have narrated elsewhere, and behaved with great heroism.

After that, he laboured for many years as a simple parish priest in a fever-plagued district, and he only consented to return to Rome when he realised that his health was gravely impaired.
Angela put her question with her usual directness and watched his face.