"Humph! I have not even that poor consolation. What did we spend it in, dost mind?"
"Can your holiness ask? Why, sugar-plums."
"What, all on't?"
"Every doit."
"These are delightful reminiscences, my Francesco. Alas! I am getting old. I shall not be here long. And I am sorry for it, for thy sake. They will go and burn thee when I am gone. Art far more a heretic than Huss, whom I saw burned with these eyes; and oh, he died like a martyr."
"Ay, your holiness: but I believe in the Pope; and Huss did not."
"Fox! They will not burn thee; wood is too dear. Adieu, old playmate; adieu, young gentlemen; an old man's blessing be on you."
That afternoon the Pope's secretary brought Gerard a little bag: in it were several gold pieces.
He added them to his store.
Margaret seemed nearer and nearer.