"Oh, no,—although I never thought that you were made for statecraft."
"I am in the service of the Senator. And the Senator of Rome is her foe."
"And you?"
"I am his servant."
She laughed nervously.
"I never thought you would come to this, my love."
"Nor ever should I have thought so. But fate is strange. The Holy Father is imprisoned in the Lateran. To him I wended my way. But the only service I did him was to prevent his escape—unwittingly. I visited the sanctuaries. But though prayers hovered on my lips, repentance was not in my heart. And then it came to pass. And I feel like one borne in a bark that has neither sail nor rudder. And if, instead of being far-floated to these Roman shores, I am headed for a port where all is security and peace, can I prevent it? I am borne on! I close my eyes and try to think that Fate has intended it for my good."
"For your good!" she said bitterly.
"For yours no less, perchance."
"How so, dearest? What good can come to me from your soul's security? To me, who believe our love is rightful?"