Outside the closed door, Sir John struck his own hands together. "And the maddening thing is that there is nothing in the whole world that I can do for Him. If I were to give Him a little present, like a baccy-pouch, ten to one it wouldn't be precisely to His taste—anyhow it 'ld only be like giving Him a calf of His Own cow. Oh damn! It's like a wax match offering a light to the sun." He suddenly faced to the door again; and his words came in the form of a solemn pledge. "Lord, I promise." He remained entranced for several moments: and anon went on his way with steadfast brow.
CHAPTER XX
The Cardinal-deacon of St. Cosmas and St. Damian did it. The acts of the consistory, in so far as they related to the calumny against the Pope, duly appeared in the Times and the Globe and the New York Times as news which was fit to print. Innumerable other papers lifted them with acknowledgments. No comment was made. The collared-puppy-in-the-Tube, and the spectacled-person-in-the-motor-car, and the female-with-the-loaf-coloured-hat-at-the-bargain-sale, forgot all about George Arthur Rose: paid no attention whatever to the Pope; and violently sat up on their hind-legs regarding the Supreme Arbitrator. France and Russia emitted caricatures and howls; and prepared to invade Belgium and Sweden, with the intention of descending on Germany from three sides.
Mrs. Crowe became conscious that she had lost rather than had gained by her connection with Jerry Sant. The English Catholics treated her as they are wont to treat converts after the first three months; and shewed her the cold shoulder. The refutation of her latest calumny had made her look foolish—and something dirtier than foolish. She was mortified: she was angry with herself; and she naturally yearned to tear and mangle everybody else. She thought that the best thing which she could do would be to pose as a much deceived woman, to break that disastrous connection with the Liblabs, and to return (if possible) to the status quo ante. So she went and fell upon Jerry, vituperating him for the accented failure of his schemes—for leading an innocent lady astray with his nastiness, and his pig-headed stupidity, and all that. She frankly told him that he had gone too far. The precious pair "had words"; and finally separated. Jerry remained at his hotel, dumb and dangerous, brooding. As for the lady, respectable mediocrity allured her by the prospect which it offered of a not unfamiliar obscurity, where she might try to piece-together the shreds and tatters of her reputation. She had a little money left—and with economy——She would stay just a little longer. Who knew what might happen?
One by one, cardinals received summons to the secret chamber. Their brains were picked and their opinions heard. Nefski of the ashen pallor and the haunted eyes admitted that Poland might be happier as a constitutional monarchy and a member of a federation. Pushed to it, he promised to use all his influence to persuade. Mundo, cleanly, rotund and sparkling, spoke of Portugal's long and illustrious alliance with the Lord of the Sea. His compact vivid nation had no grievances. Grace looked silently vigorous; and praised the Munroe doctrine. If only——. The French cardinals chattered: were aghast: sobbed: were quite limp; and became picturesquely and dithyrambically resigned. Oh they were so excellent:—and so futile! Courtleigh pleaded age, infirmity. Circumstances had become more than he could manage. He had begun to think that he never had been anything but a decorative figure-head: that he never once had gripped the rudder of affairs since the Prince of Wales had been so—well, rude to him. He was old: he was garrulous: craving for greetings. He begged leave to go and end his days in the college which he had founded, if the Holy Father would but deign to relieve him of his archbishopric. Hadrian did deign; and summoned Talacryn, to whom He said "We are about to fulfil the ambition of Your Eminency's life by preconizing you to the archbishopric of Pimlico."
The cardinal said something about being unworthy of the honour.
"That of course," the Pontiff responded: "but We place you there because you know or ought to know more of Our mind than any man: and your task is to make that known to England. It at least never can be said, if you should err, that you erred through ignorance of Our will. You have health, you have youth, you have a dominant presence. People will listen to you. Your danger and your fault are due to your national habit of suspicion. That can be conquered. Act up to your name: be frank: suspect no one: be ready to renounce:—but your heart should tell you all that We would say. Now for Caerleon. Whom would you like to succeed Your Eminency there?"