. . . .
When Martini came into the room he found the
Gadfly lying alone with the untouched coffee beside
him, swearing softly to himself in a languid,
spiritless way, as though he got no satisfaction
out of it.
CHAPTER IX.
A FEW days later, the Gadfly, still rather pale and
limping more than usual, entered the reading
room of the public library and asked for Cardinal
Montanelli's sermons. Riccardo, who was reading
at a table near him, looked up. He liked the
Gadfly very much, but could not digest this one
trait in him--this curious personal maliciousness.
"Are you preparing another volley against that
unlucky Cardinal?" he asked half irritably.
"My dear fellow, why do you a-a-always attribute
evil m-m-motives to people? It's m-most
unchristian. I am preparing an essay on contemporary
theology for the n-n-new paper."
"What new paper?" Riccardo frowned. It
was perhaps an open secret that a new press-law
was expected and that the Opposition was preparing
to astonish the town with a radical newspaper;
but still it was, formally, a secret.
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