With a gesture of horror and dismay the other, a woman, wrapt in a dark mantle, which covered her tall and stately form from head to foot, turned away from him.
"I give you back the question," she replied, dread and fear in her tones.
"My presence here concerns the dead," said the monk.
"They say, the hand of the dead Pontiff has touched his murderer."
The monk paled. For a moment he almost lost his self-control.
"He had to die some way," he replied with a shrug.
"Monster!" she exclaimed, recoiling from him, as if she had seen a snake in her path.
"He travelled in godly company," said the monk Cyprianus with a dark laugh. "An entire Conclave will welcome him at the gates of Paradise. Why are you here?" the monk concluded, a shade of suspicion lingering in his tones.
"Am I accountable to you?" flashed Theodora.
"Being what you are through my intercession,—perhaps," replied the monk.