"Then ask me something else."
"But I want to know so much," objected Donna Maria, with an expression that made Ghisleri smile.
"Then you must take the risk," he said. "It is not very great."
"Well, then, I will." She dropped her voice almost to a whisper. "Is the lady in question—I mean—is she the sort of woman you can imagine falling in love with?"
"I do not think I should ever fall in love with her," answered Ghisleri, without betraying emotion or surprise.
"Why not? There must be some reason. So many men have said the same thing about her."
"She is too good a woman for any of us to love. We feel that she is too far above us to be quite human as we are."
"What a strange man you are, Ghisleri! I should never have dreamt that you could say such a thing as that. It is not at all like your reputation you know, and not in the least like those delightfully dreadful verses you addressed to the saint last year on Shrove Tuesday at Gouache's studio. I should think that Mephistopheles would delight in making love to saints."
"In real life Mephistopheles would get the worst of it, and be shown to the door with very little ceremony."
"I doubt that. Every woman likes a spice of devilry in the man she loves—and as for being shown to the door, that is ridiculous. Is there any reason in the world why you should not fall in love with a woman exactly like the unmentionable lady and marry her, too, if you love her enough—or little enough, according to your views of married life? You are quite free, and so is she, and you said yourself that in the course of time she would naturally come back to the world."