"Quite true," replied the Cardinal, "But no particular goodness can be accredited to any servant of the Gospel for trying to rescue an orphan child from misery."
"No—no, certainly not!" assented Gherardi—"But it is seldom that one as exalted in dignity as yourself condescends—ah, pardon me!—you do not like that word I see!"
"I do not understand it in OUR work," said the Cardinal, "There can be no 'condescension' in saving the lost."
Gherardi was silent a moment, smiling a little to himself. "What a simpleton is this Saint Felix!" he thought. "What a fool to run amuck at his own chances of distinction and eminence!"
"And the boy is clever?" he said presently in kindly accents—"Docile in conduct?—and useful to you?"
"He is a wonderful child!" answered the Cardinal with unsuspecting candour and feeling, "Thoughtful beyond his years,—wise beyond his experience."
Gherardi shot a quick glance from under his eyelids at the fine tranquil face of the venerable speaker, and again smiled.
"You have no further knowledge of him?—no clue to his parentage?"
"None."
Just then the conversation was interrupted by a little movement of eagerness,—people were pressing towards the grand piano which Florian Varillo had opened,—the Comtesse Sylvie Hermenstein was about to grant a general request made to her for a song. She moved slowly and with a touch of reluctance towards the instrument, Aubrey Leigh walking beside her.