"Yes. I find a charm in its 'dim religious light.'"
"And the quietude of the place," said Idris, "is also favourable to the study of mediæval historians—Paulus Diaconus, for example."
"Ah! Mr. Breakspear," she said, "so it was you who carried off my book from the organ-loft. I guessed as much when I went back, and found it gone. You must not forget to return it, for I value it highly. Now, confess, that you have wondered why I, a woman, should take to poring over that old Lombard historian?"
"Curiosity is not confined to the sex with whom it is supposed to have originated," smiled Idris, "and I am willing to admit, mademoiselle, that I have been puzzled. The book does not belong to the style of literature usually patronized by ladies."
"Merci! I regard that last remark as a compliment. Well, I will explain the mystery, if you will promise to keep the matter a secret." And upon Idris giving his assurance, she continued: "I am trying to write a poetical play, a tragedy relating to the times of the Italo-Lombard kings, and as I do not wish to commit anachronisms, it behoves me to study the historical authorities in the original."
"I understand," answered Idris, his opinion of Lorelie rising higher than ever: besides being a musician and a Latin scholar, she was also a poetess! "And what are you going to call your play?"
"'The Fatal Skull,'" she replied. "You look surprised, Mr. Breakspear. Is there already a play of that name?"
"I have never heard of it."
"Because one must not borrow another author's title, is it not so?"