"Our Saviour."
"Miserable heretic!" scowled the monk, "hast thou yet to learn that of all the living souls this world contains, not one can enter the fold of Heaven without the sanction of our Holy Father, the Pope?"
"I shall never learn it," whispered Gina, "and to me such doctrines savor of blasphemy. Therefore, I beseech you, dilate not on them."
"Lost, miserable wretch!" cried the priest, lifting his hands in dismay. "Need I tell thee, that in the next world there is a place of torture kept for such as thee—a gulf of burning flames, never to be extinguished.
"We are told there is such a place," she answered, struggling with her tears, for the interview was becoming too painful. "May the infinite love and mercy of God keep both you and me from it!"
"Thou art hopeless—hopeless!" ejaculated the monk, sternly. "Yet, another question ere I send thee forth. Where hast thou imbibed these deadly doctrines?"
"My mother wedded with an Italian," answered Gina, "but she was born on the free soil of England, and reared in its Reformed Faith."
"A benighted land—an accursed land!" screamed the priest, vehemently; "the time will come when it shall be deluged from one end to the other with its apostates' blood."
"It is an enlightened land—a free, blessed land!" retorted Gina, in agitation; "and God's mercy will rest upon it, and keep it powerful amongst nations, so long as its sons remain true to their Reformed Faith."
"Insanity has fallen upon them," raved the monk, endeavoring to drown the bold words of Gina,—"nothing but insanity. But," he added, dropping his voice, "let them beware. Quem Deus vult perdere, prius dementat."