"You improve the time!" he said, sarcastically, pacing slowly beside her. "To one of your faith and devotion that book should be accursed!"
She raised her clear eyes and looked at him straightly,
"Is the sunlight accursed?" she said, "The grass or the flowers? The thoughts in this book are as pure and beautiful as they!"
Gherardi smiled. The enthusiasm of a woman's unspoilt nature was always a source of amusement to him.
"Your sentiments are very pretty and poetic!" he said, "But they are exaggerated. That book is on the 'Index'!"
"Yes, of course it would be!" answered Sylvie quietly, "I have often wondered why so much fine literature is condemned by the Church,—and do you know, it occurred to me the other day that if our Lord had WRITTEN what He said in the form of a book, it might be placed on the 'Index' also?"
Gherardi lifted his eyes from their scrutiny of the ground, and fixed them upon her with a look of amazement that was almost a menace. But she was not in the least intimidated,—and her face, though pale as the narcissi she had just seen in blossom, was very tranquil.
"Are you the Comtesse Hermenstein?" said Gherardi then, after an impressive pause, "The faithful, gentle daughter of Holy Church? or are you some perverted spirit wearing her semblance?"
Sylvie laughed.
"If I am a perverted spirit you ought to be able to exorcise me, Monsignor!" she said,—"With the incense of early Mass clinging to you, and the holy water still fresh on your hands, you have only to say, 'Retro me Sathanas!' and if I am NOT Sylvie Hermenstein I shall melt into thin air, leaving nothing but the odour of sulphur behind me! But if I AM Sylvie Hermenstein, I shall remain invincible and immovable,—both in myself and in my opinions!"