‘There are miracles too great for even priestcraft, holy father—this is one of them. Nay, I speak not of his birth, it is of the destiny you purpose for him. Is it now, in the midst of the glorious outburst of universal freedom, when men are but awakening out of the long and lethargic dream of slavery, that you would make them to return to it; would you call them to welcome back a race whose badge has been oppression? No, no, your Church is too wise, too far-sighted for such an error; the age of monarchies is over; take counsel from the past, and learn that, henceforth, you must side with the people.’
‘So have we ever,’ cried the Père enthusiastically; ‘yes, I maintain and will prove it. Stay, you must not part with me so easily. You shall tell me who you are. This weak pretence of Egyptian origin deceives not me.’
‘You shall know nothing of me,’ was the brief reply.
‘The Sacred Consulta will not accept this answer.’
‘They will get none other, father.’
‘Such acts as yours are forbidden by the canon law; be careful how you push me to denounce them.’
‘Does the Inquisition still live, then?’ asked she superciliously.
‘Sorcery is a crime, on the word of Holy Writ, woman; and again I say, beware!’
‘This is scarcely grateful, holy father; I came here to render you a service.’
‘And you are carrying away a secret, woman,’ said the priest angrily. ‘This must not be.’