“Oh, captain, good sense!” said Gerard, with a deep and tender reproach.
The Pope smiled on Gerard. “Cavil not at words; that was an unheard of concession from a rival theologian.” He then asked for all Gerard's work, and took it away in his hand. But before going, he gently pulled Fra Colonna's ear, and asked him whether he remembered when they were school-fellows together and robbed the Virgin by the roadside of the money dropped into her box. “You took a flat stick and applied bird-lime to the top, and drew the money out through the chink, you rogue,” said his holiness severely.
“To every signor his own honour,” replied Fra Colonna. “It was your holiness's good wit invented the manoeuvre. I was but the humble instrument.”
“It is well. Doubtless you know 'twas sacrilege.”
“Of the first water; but I did it in such good company, it troubles me not.”
“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.”