“Hum,” said the Cardinal.
“Well, then—?” questioned Beatrice.
“Well, then, Carissima, why do you not take the affair in hand yourself?”
“But that is just the difficulty. What can I what can a mere woman—do in such a case?”
The Cardinal looked into his amethyst, as a crystal-gazer into his crystal; and the lines about his humorous old mouth deepened and quivered.
“I will lend you the works of Bellarmine in I forget how many volumes. You can prime yourself with them, and then invite your heretic to a course of instructions.”
“Oh, I wish you would n't turn it to a joke,” said Beatrice.
“Bellarmine—a joke!” exclaimed the Cardinal. “It is the first time I have ever heard him called so. However, I will not press the suggestion.”
“But then—? Oh, please advise me seriously. What can I do? What can a mere unlearned woman do?”
The Cardinal took snuff. He gazed into his amethyst again, beaming at it, as if he could descry something deliciously comical in its depths. He gave a soft little laugh. At last he looked up.