"This evening, all the wealth of heaven above and earth beneath would not buy my heart," said she, laughing. "I should be the blackest of sinners, unworthy to receive the Blessed Sacrament if I had not my little caprices."
"I'll burn the house down. Sorceress, you have bewitched me. You shall perish at the stake. Listen to me, my love,—my gentle Dove—I promise you the best place in heaven. Eh? No. Death to you then—death to the sorceress."
"Oh, oh! I will kill you, Monseigneur."
And the cardinal foamed with rage.
"You are making a fool of yourself," said she. "Go away, you'll tire yourself."
"I shall be pope, and you shall pay for this!"
"Then you are no longer disposed to obey me?"
"What can I do this evening to please you?"
"Get out."
And she sprang lightly like a wagtail into her room, and locked herself in, leaving the cardinal to storm that he was obliged to go. When the fair Imperia found herself alone, seated before the fire, and without her little priest, she exclaimed, snapping angrily the gold links of her chain, "By the double triple horn on the devil, if the little one has made me have this row with the Cardinal, and exposed me to the danger of being poisoned tomorrow, unless I pay him over to my heart's content, I will not die till I have seen him burned alive before my eyes. Ah!" said she, weeping, this time real tears, "I lead a most unhappy life, and the little pleasure I have costs me the life of a dog, let alone my salvation."