“Leo, the greatest of Popes. When he speaks it is time for the rest of the world to be silent.”
After the toast had been drunk the Jesuit father referred no more to the topic about which he had been talking. They were sitting by the window looking out on the street where quite a few people were promenading. As one woman after another passed they discussed the good points of each and waxed merry over the wine, rehearsing many salacious stories. Finally Ambrosia Lonzello passed. The Jesuit, looking on her, remarked:
“That is the woman for me. She has the woman’s ten perfect points. Do you know her, Brother?”
The bishop’s lips were dry and his heart was enraged as he answered, feebly, “Yes.”
“Can’t you give me opportunity to hear her confession?”
The bishop knew what was implied by the request, and his heart was fired with the heat of his passion. He made a motion once to kick the Jesuit down stairs. But the knowledge that he was a special envoy of the Pope, and, more than that, the counter-fire of anger at Ambrosia, and the fierce flame of his hatred of Saguanaldo, caused him to desist. Indeed, the first flames had eaten so deeply into his heart that there was little left for the flame caused by the insult to touch. He merely answered, quietly, after swallowing a little:
“That is the sweetheart of the insurgent general, Saguanaldo.”
“Ah, that is good,” responded the Jesuit. “You hate him and would like to wound him to the death before you go. Behold, the Lord hath delivered him into your hands. Promise me that the girl shall confess to me.”
He seized the bishop’s arm and leered lewdly at him. “You really must, for I am mad from continence while on the water. Some day I will do as much for you. Won’t you, good Bishop?”
Bishop Lonzello clenched his fist and hissed through his teeth, “Yes; and may God damn your soul to hell.”