"I'm a cardinal; that is all. The dress of Leo the Tenth, before he became Pope. Don't you think I look the character?"
He was attired in a robe of scarlet velvet, which covered his unwieldy form from the neck to the feet, and enveloped his arms in its voluminous sleeves. His florid face appeared beneath the broad rim of a red hat, and upon his broad chest hung a golden chain, to which was appended a huge golden cross. The costume was of the richest texture, and gave something of a lordly appearance to the bulky form of the reverend doctor.
"I'm a cardinal," said Bulgin with a wink; "There is a nice party of us, who meet to-night, between twelve and one, to confer upon grave matters. Every one wears a mask and costume. Will you go with me? There is the robe of a Jesuit yonder, which will fit you to a hair."
Herman's eyes flashed, and he started from his chair.
"The wife of your old patient,"—he began.
"Goes as the cardinal's niece, you know! we didn't know the costume of a cardinal's niece, and so I told her to wear a dress-coat and pantaloons. Will you go?"
Herman's face glowed with the full force of his monomania.
"For wine and feasting, I care not," he cried, "but a scene where beautiful women—" he paused, and fixed his eyes on vacancy, while that singular monomania shone from his humid eyes, and fired his cheeks with a vivid glow. "Where are we to go?" he asked.
"To the Temple," said the Rev. Dr. Bulgin, with his finger on his light: "You remember the night when we were there?"
"Remember?" echoed the Rev. Herman Barnhurst, with an accent of inexpressible rapture: "Can I ever forget?" He strode hastily toward the recess. "Where is the Jesuit robe?"