“I think I understand,” the Cardinal said. “There was a bull to be tamed and it was better to keep red rags out of sight. A stroke of mind against muscle. But in taming the bull you have almost lost—yourself.”
With words that his looks did not bear out, Mario strove to assure them all that save for the pain where his head was cut his suffering was slight.
“If your Eminence will drive me there,” he said, “I will go to my apartments.”
The Bemardines protested in chorus. “Let us care for you here,” Brother Sebastiano pleaded.
“It is most kind of you,” Mario said, rising, “but sooner or later we must part, and now I feel able to go.”
Seeing him resolute, the Cardinal rose as well and with the brothers all about them they went to the door.
“To our meeting again, Signor Forza,” said the prior in bidding adieu. “Some day you will come and tell us the story?”
“Yes, and you may expect me soon.”
When the rumble of the carriage had drowned the distant roar and crackle of musketry which told that the unequal conflict was still on, Mario spoke his regret that the Cardinal for his sake had lost the train to Como, and an important engagement.
“I would lose all the trains in the world in such a cause,” the other returned. “Did your going to the convent not save our Leonardo? As to the journey, I shall accomplish it yet by some means. The railway strike is general. Traffic has ceased on all the lines north and south. When, I wonder, shall we give to the greatest of our problems the reason we apply to the solution of smaller ones?”