“Don’t pay any attention,” said Laura.
“Yes, my dear abbé,” retorted Cæsar, “and I even believe that you added confidentially that sometimes the Pope in the Vatican gardens, imitating Francis I after the battle of Pavia, is wont to say sadly to the Secretary of State: ‘All is lost, save faith and... good cooking.’”
“What a bufone! What a bufone!” exclaimed Preciozi, with his mouth full.
“You are giving a proof of irreligion which is in bad taste,” said Laura. “Only janitors talk like that.”
“On such questions I am an honourary janitor.”
“That’s all right, but you ought to realize that there are religious people here, like the abbé....”
“Preciozi? Why, he’s a Voltairean.”
“Oh! Oh! My friend....” exclaimed Preciozi, emptying a glass of wine.
“Voltaireanism,” continued Cæsar. “There is nobody here who has faith, nobody who makes the little sacrifice of not eating on Fridays in Lent. Here we are, destroying with our own teeth one of the most beautiful works of the Church. You will both ask me what that work is....”
“No, we will not ask you anything,” said Laura, waving a hand in the air.