Here Gherardi uncovered his eyes and looked at her fully.
"But there you are mistaken!" he said gently, with a smile that was almost paternal. "I know of nothing in recent years that has given the Holy Father greater satisfaction!"
She glanced at him quickly but said nothing, whereat he was secretly annoyed. Why did she not express her wonder and delight at the Pope's lenity, as almost any other woman in her position would have done? Her outward appearance was that of child-like ultra-femininity,—how was it then that he felt as if she were mentally fencing with him, and that her intellectual sword-play threatened to surpass his own?
"Nothing," he repeated suavely, "has given the Holy Father greater satisfaction! For very naturally, he looks upon you as one of his most faithful children, and rejoices that by the power of perfect love—love which is an emanation of the Divine Spirit in itself—you have been chosen by our Lord to draw so gifted and brilliant a man as Aubrey Leigh out of the error of his ways and bring him into the true fold!"
XXXIV.
Still the Countess Sylvie was silent. Bending a quick scrutinising glance upon her, he saw that her eyes were lowered, and that the violets nestling near her bosom moved restlessly with her quickened breath, and he judged these little signs of agitation as the favourable hints of a weakening and hesitating will.
"Aubrey Leigh," he went on slowly, "has long been an avowed enemy of our Church. In England especially, where many of the Protestant clergy, repenting of their recusancy—for Protestantism is nothing more than a backsliding from the true faith—are desirous of gradually, through the gentler forms of Ritualism, returning to the Original source of Divine Inspiration, he has taken a great deal too much upon himself in the freedom of his speeches to the people. But we are bound to remember that it is not against OUR Church only that he has armed himself at all points, but seemingly against all Churches; and when we examine, charitably and with patience, into the sum and substance of his work and aim, we find its chief object is to purify and maintain—not to destroy or deny—the Divine teaching of Christ. In this desire we are one with him—we are even willing to assist him in the Cause he has espoused—and we shall faithfully promise to do so, when we receive him as your husband. Nay, more—we will endeavour to further his work among the poor, and carry out any scheme for their better care, which he may propose to us, and we may judge as devout and serviceable. The Church has wide arms,—she stretches far, and holds fast! The very fact of a man like Aubrey Leigh voluntarily choosing as his wife the last scion of one of the most staunch Roman Catholic families in Europe, proves the salutary and welcome change which your good influence has brought about in his heart and mind and manner and judgment,—wherefore it follows, my dear child, that in his marriage with you he becomes one of us, and is no longer outside us!"
With a swift and graceful imperiousness, Sylvie suddenly rose and faced him.
"It is time we understood each other, Monsignor," she said quietly. "It is no good playing at cross purposes! With every respect for you, I must speak plainly. I am fully aware of all you tell me respecting my descent and the traditions of my ancestors. I know that the former Counts Hermenstein were faithful servants of the Church. But they were all merely half-educated soldiers; brave, yet superstitious. I know also that my father, the late Count, was apparently equally loyal to the Church,—though really only so because it was too much trouble for him to think seriously about anything save hunting. But I—Sylvie—the last of the race, do not intend to be bound or commanded by the trammels of any Church, in the face of the great truths declared to the world to-day! My faith in God is as my betrothed husband's faith in God,—my heart is his,—my life is his! From henceforth we are together; and together we are content to go, after death, wherever God shall ordain, be it Hell or Heaven!"
"Wait!" said Gherardi in low fierce accents, his eyes glittering with mingled rage and the admiration of her beauty which he could ill conceal. "Wait! If you care nothing for yourself in this matter, is it possible that you care nothing for him? Have you thought of the results of such rashness as you meditate? Listen!" and he leaned forward in his chair, his dark brows bent and his whole attitude expressive of a relentless malice—"Your marriage, without the blessing of the Church of your fathers, shall be declared illegal!—your children pronounced bastards! Wherever the ramifications of the Church are spread (and they are everywhere) you, the brilliant, the courted, the admired Sylvie Hermenstein, shall find yourself not only outside the Church, but outside all Society! You will be considered as 'living in sin';—as no true wife, but merely the mistress of the man with whom you have elected to wander the world! And he, when he sees the finger of scorn pointed at you and at his children, he also will change—as all men change when change is convenient or advantageous to themselves;—he will in time weary of his miserable Christian-Democratic theories,—and of you!—yes, even of you!" And Gherardi suddenly sprang up and drew nearer to her. "Even of YOU, I say! He will weary of your beauty—that delicate fine loveliness which makes me long to possess it!—me, a priest of the Mother-Church, whose heart is supposed to beat only for two things—Power and Revenge! Listen—listen yet a moment!" and he drew a step nearer, while Sylvie held her ground where she stood, unflinchingly, and like a queen, though she was pale to the very lips—"What of the friend you love so well, Angela Sovrani, who has dared to paint such a picture as should be burnt in the public market-place for its vile heresy! Do you think SHE will escape the wrath of the Church? Not she! We in our day use neither poison nor cold steel—but we know how to poison a name and stab a reputation! What! You shrink at that? Listen yet—listen a moment longer! And remember that nothing escapes the vigilant eye of Rome! At this very moment I can place my hand on Florian Varillo, concerning whom there is a rumour that he attempted the assassination of his betrothed wife,—an inhuman deed that no sane man could ever have perpetrated"—here Sylvie uttered a slight exclamation, and he paused, looking at her with a cold smile—"Yes, I repeat it!—a deed WHICH NO SANE MAN COULD HAVE PERPETRATED! The unfortunate, the deeply wronged Florian Varillo, is prepared to swear, and I AM PREPARED TO SWEAR WITH HIM, that he is guiltless of any such vile act or treachery—and also that he painted more than half of the great picture this woman Sovrani claims as her own work! Whilst strongly protesting against its heresy and begging her to alter certain figures in the canvas, still he gave her for love's sake, all his masculine ability. The blasphemous idea is hers—but the drawing, the colouring, the grouping, are HIS!"