Standing over him in his great black cloak, Signor della Torre Vecchia shook his head dolefully. "I doubt if it is wise—whether you will really be fit to travel."
At this point the landlord, with many apologies, desired to be permitted to set down the coffee on the table near the couch, and the guest had to make way for him.
"Your Excellencies have everything they require?" asked he. "Signor Ungerford is just come in; he reads his correspondence. The courier has arrived, but there are no other letters." One overflowing smile, he bowed himself out.
"Pray sit down, Signore," said Dormer. "We will not wait for Mr. Hungerford." And he stretched out his arm to the coffee.
"Ah, but you must allow me, in the circumstances, to do that!" said Torre Vecchia quickly, and he snatched away the tray. "With what pleasure should I not have done this for you up at Fiesole," he observed wistfully, as he poured out the coffee. "It will always be a life-long regret to me that you would not permit me to remove you to Villa San Giuliano."
"As if I were not sufficiently indebted to you without that!" exclaimed the Englishman. "For all your kindness to a stranger I can make no return but to hope that, when you visit England again, you will come to Oxford as my guest."
Torre Vecchia gave him, with his coffee, a promise that he would do so, and flowed on in a gentle but swift-running stream of converse, while Dormer began to wonder why Tristram did not join them. Finally he apologised for him, suggesting that he did not know of the Italian's presence. Torre Vecchia made a large gesture that excused him.
"We were told," said he, "that he is reading his letters, and who can say whether there is not one from his betrothed. Pray do not have him disturbed.... You know, Signore, that your Church is very fortunate in possessing material of the type of Signor Hungerford for her pastors—for I understand that he is about to enter that estate. Is it not true that the English country gentleman has an equal, if not a superior, in the parson, who is a man of the world, with a training of the University, whereas ours are ... to put it delicately, not high born, and seminary bred.... But here I am on this topic again—and I hope, Signore, that in our most interesting conversation of yesterday, when I said how much I disliked our system of enforced celibacy for the clergy, I did not seem to be criticising Holy Church, of which I trust I am a faithful son."
Dormer relieved him of this apprehension, and he continued:
"But there are these two points which, when I feel I shall not be misunderstood, I cannot help deploring—most of all the enforced celibacy." Torre Vecchia dropped his voice and looked round, apparently to make sure that they were alone, ere he went on earnestly, "'Signore, consider the isolated position of the ordinary priest, consider the number of things enjoyed by his fellow-men that he must renounce—above all, that great happiness, which our holy religion sanctifies for others, but which it forbids him even to think of for himself. His life may inspire respect, even admiration, but it excites—in me, at least—regret for so much rigour, which is surely in contradiction with what Nature and God Himself have implanted.... I find it so extraordinary that you, a divine of the English Church, do not agree with me!"