She opened the way for the marchioness and her motley company to pass out; then she herself, first closing the secret passage between the two wings of the palace, followed the other fugitives and, gaining the street by a wide detour, engaged a cab to take her to the Vatican.
"His Holiness receives no one this afternoon," was the announcement made to her at the door.
Almost in despair, and bewildered by the sudden turn of events which had thus cast her homeless on the streets, the princess returned to her carriage.
"Do you know where Signor Scalcagnato lives ?" she asked the driver.
"Scalcagnato the shoemaker, the champion of the people?
To be sure I do: in the Piazza di Colosseo.

But if the lady wishes to buy shoes of him she should not address him as _Signor_ Scalcagnato." "Why not ?" "Because he will ask half as much more for them than if he were called plain _Citizen_ Scalcagnato." After this gratuitous bit of information the coachman whipped up his horse and rattled away toward the Colosseum with his passenger.
Arriving at the shoemaker's shop, Blanka was received by a little man of lively bearing and a quick, intelligent expression.
"Pst! No words needed," was his greeting.

"I know all about it.

I am Citizen Scalcagnato, _il calzolajo_.

Take my arm, citizeness.