"He is a liar!" cried Sylvie passionately. "Let him prove his lie!"
"He shall have every chance to prove it!" answered Gherardi calmly. "I will give him every chance! I will support what you call his lie! I SAY IT IS A TRUTH! No woman could have painted that picture! And mark you well—the mere discussion will be sufficient to kill the Sovrani's fame!"
Heedless of his ecclesiastical dignity—reckless of everything concerning herself-Sylvie rushed up to him and laid one hand on his arm.
"What! Are you a servant of Christ," she said half-whisperingly, "or a slave of the devil?"
"Both," he answered, looking down upon her fair beauty with a wicked light shining in his eyes. "Both!" and he grasped the little soft hand that lay on his arm and held it as in a vice. "You are not wanting in courage, Contessa, to come so close to me!—to let me hold your hand! How pale you look! If you were like other women you would scream—or summon your servants, and create a scandal! You know better! You know that no scandal would ever be believed of a priest attached to the Court of Rome! Stay there—where you are—I will not hurt you! No—by all the raging fire of love for you in my heart, I will not touch more than this hand of yours! Good!—Now you are quite still—I say again, you have courage! Your eyes do not flinch—they look straight into mine—what brave eyes! You would search the very core of my intentions? You shall! Do you not think it enough for me—who am human though priest—to give you up to the possession of a man I hate!—A man who has insulted me! Is it not enough, I say, to immolate my own passion thus, without having to confront the possibility of your deserting that Church for whose sake I thus resign you? For had this Aubrey Leigh never met you, I would have MADE you mine! Still silent?—and your little hand still quiet in mine?—I envy you your nerve! You stand torture well, but I will not keep you on the rack too long! You shall know the worst at once—then you shall yourself judge the position. You shall prove for yourself the power of Rome! To escape that power you would have, as the Scripture says, to 'take the wings of the morning and fly into the uttermost parts of the sea.' Think well!—the fame and reputation of Angela Sovrani can be ruined at my command,—and equally, the sanctity and position of her uncle, Cardinal Bonpre!"
With a sudden movement Sylvie wrenched her hand away from his, and stood at bay, her eyes flashing, her cheeks crimsoning.
"Cardinal Bonpre!" she cried. "What evil have you in your mind against him? Are you so lost to every sense of common justice as to attempt to injure one who is greater than many of the Church's canonized saints in virtue and honesty? What has he done to you?"
Gherardi smiled.
"You excite yourself needlessly, Contessa," he said. "He has done nothing to me personally,—he is simply in my way. That is his sole offence! And whatever is in my way, I remove! Nothing is easier than to remove Cardinal Bonpre, for he has, by his very simplicity, fallen into a trap from which extrication will be difficult. He should have stopped in his career with the performance of his miracle at Rouen,—then all would have been well; he should not have gone on to Paris, there to condone the crime of the Abbe Vergniaud, and THEN come on to Rome. To come to Rome under such circumstances, was like putting his head in the wolf's mouth! But the most unfortunate thing he has done on his ill-fated journey, is to have played protector to that boy he has with him."
"Why?" demanded Sylvie, growing pale as before she had been flushed.