"I will come round early to-morrow and tell you all," promised Sylvie, "for I mean to find out, if I can, what happened at the Vatican when Cardinal Bonpre last went there with Manuel."
"My uncle is most anxious to leave Rome," said Angela musingly.
"I know. And if there is any plot against him he MUST leave Rome—he
SHALL leave it! And we will help him!"
With that she went her way, and an hour or so later stood, a perfect picture of grace and beauty, in the grand old rooms of the Casa D'Angeli, waiting to receive Gherardi. She had taken more than the usual pains with her toilette this afternoon, and had chosen to wear a "creation" of wonderful old lace, with knots of primrose and violet velvet caught here and there among its folds. It suited her small lissom figure to perfection, and her only ornaments were a cluster of fresh violets, and one ring sparkling on her left hand,—a star of rose brilliants and rubies, the sign of her betrothal.
Punctual to the hour appointed, Gherardi arrived, and was at once shown into her presence. There was a touch of aggressiveness and irony in his manner as he entered with his usual slow and dignified step, and though he endeavoured to preserve that suavity and cold calmness for which he was usually admired and feared by women, his glance was impatient, and an occasional biting of his lips showed suppressed irritation. The first formal greetings over, he said—
"I have wished for some time to call upon you, Contessa, but the pressure of affairs at the Vatican—"
He stopped abruptly, looking at her. How provokingly pretty she was!—and how easily indifferent she seemed to the authoritative air he had chosen to assume.
"I should, I know, long ere this have offered you my felicitations on your approaching marriage—"
Sylvie smiled bewitchingly, and gave him a graceful curtsey.
"Will you not sit down, Monsignor?" she then said. "We can talk more at our ease, do you not think?"