'Yes,' he said, with deep meaning.
'May God bless you,' she murmured, as though she were praying. Then she buried her face for several minutes in a rose.
'And then,' she resumed, 'by way of contrast to all the brightness, to the white palaces, and the fine art shops, how strange is that great, severe, gray edifice, with the inscription "Propaganda Fide." The spread of the faith! Do you not think those words have a grand and mysterious sound, that they must go to all the corners of the earth? I hope you are a believer, my friend?'
'If you believe, Angelica, I believe also.'
'It is so vulgar to be an atheist! Religion is so good and beautiful; it is worth more than most things the world cares for. Have you ever been in any of the churches in Rome?'
'I have looked into the basilicas from motives of artistic curiosity.'
'Oh yes, those are great empty churches that serve no purpose. You must see the little Roman chapels, that are meant to pray in. There is one up there, at the Trinita, where the young monks sing behind a railing on Sundays. What divine music that is! The monks are out of sight, and one would say they were souls chanting their sorrows and joys. Let us go and hear them together some day. Would you like to?'
'If you wish it, I will go.'
'I should like you to think as I do, my friend. I should like you to feel what I feel. Perhaps you can guess at it.'
'I am so fond of you—I shall guess,' he said, with the stifled voice in which he always spoke when alluding to his love.