The haughty prelate listened patiently while the young poor priest spoke.
"Ah, my son," he said at last, seeing him pause, "such a vision takes a high hope of Man and a firm belief in his purity of heart. I fear thy faith would not be justified. It takes account of the priest lifting up the average man, but it takes none whatever of the average man drawing down the priest."
Annys opened his lips to speak, but Hildebrand waved one hand to command silence and continued: "Now, my son, in the course of thy wanderings, doubtless thou didst encounter women such as thou hast been fond of describing, who would, through their great purity and perfect sympathy and unselfishness, make the ideal spouse for the priest. Tell me of such women, do they exist?"
"They exist," cried Annys, vehemently, and then his voice failed him. He could not bring himself to speak of Matilda.
The eyes of the Pope blazed. "Ha! I thought as much," he murmured.
Then at last, reluctantly, Annys brought himself to speak of Matilda, her simple charity, her ready self-sacrifice, her tender sympathy and unfailing helpfulness.
"And of course, were Rome to give thee permission to take a wife, it would be this same gentle, helpful, ideal spouse thou wouldst choose?"
Hildebrand watched the face of Annys keenly.
But Annys covered his face with his hands.
A bitter smile crossed the Pope's face. "How? could it be that one could hesitate before all this perfection?"