A grunt and a nod were all the response.

"What a curious chapter on 'La vie privee' of Florence your revelations might be, padre!" said Jekyl, as if reflectingly. "What a deal of iniquity, great and small, comes to your ears every season!"

"What a vast amount of it has its origin in that little scheming brain of thine, Signor Jekyli, and in the fertile wits of your fair neighbor.

The unhappy marriages thou hast made; the promising unions thou hast broken; the doubts thou hast scattered here, the dark suspicions there; the rightful distrust thou hast lulled, the false confidences encouraged, youth, youth, thou hast a terrible score to answer for!"

"When I think of the long catalogue of villany you have been listening to, padre, not only without an effort, but a wish to check; when every sin recorded has figured in your ledger, with its little price annexed; when you have looked out upon the stormy sea of society, as a wrecker ranges his eye over an iron-bound coast in a gale, and thinks of the 'waifs' that soon will be his own; when, as I have myself seen you, you have looked indulgently down on petty transgressions, that must one day become big sins, and, like a skilful angler, throw the little fish back into the stream, in the confidence that when full-grown you can take them, when you have done all these things and a thousand more, padre, I cannot help muttering to myself, Age, age, what a terrible score thou hast to answer for!"

"I must say," interposed Nina, "you are both very bad company, and that nothing can be in worse taste than this interchange of compliments. You are both right to amuse yourselves in this world as your faculties best point out, but each radically wrong in attributing motives to the other.

What, in all that is wonderful, have we to do with motives? I'm sure _I_ have no grudges to cherish, no debts of dislike to pay off, anywhere.

Any diablerie I take part in, is for pure mischief sake. I do think it rather a hard case, that, with somewhat better features, and I know a far shrewder wit than many others, I should perform second and third rate parts in this great comedy of life, while many without higher qualifications are 'cast for the best characters.' This little score I do try and exact, not from individuals, but the world at large. Mischief with me is the child's pleasure in deranging the chessmen when the players are most intent on the game."

"Now, as to these Onslows, for we must be practical, padre mio," said Jekyl, "let us see what is to be done with them. As regards matrimony, the real prize has left for England, this Dalton girl may or may not be a 'hit;' some aver that she is heiress to a large estate, of which the Onslows have obtained possession, and that they destine her for the young Guardsman. This must be inquired into. My Lady has 'excellent dispositions,' and may have become anything or everything."

"Let her come to 'the Church,' then," growled out the canon.

"Gently, padre, gently," said Jekyl, "you are really too covetous, and would drag the river always from your own net. We have been generous, hugely generous, to you for the last three seasons, and have made all your converts the pets of society, no matter how small and insignificant their pretensions. The vulgar have been adopted in the best circles, the ugly dubbed beautiful, the most tiresome of old maids have been reissued from the mint as new coinage. We have petted, flattered, and fawned upon those 'interesting Christians,' as the 'Tablet' would call them, till the girls began to feel that there were no partners for a polka outside the Church of Rome, and that all the 'indulgences' of pleasure, like those of religion, came from the Pope. We cannot give you the Onslows, or, at least, not yet. We have yet to marry the daughter, provide for the friend, squeeze the sou."

"Profligate young villain! Reach me the champagne, Nina; and, Nina, tell your young mistress that it is scarcely respectful to come on foot to the mid-day ma.s.s; that the clergy of the town like to see the equipages of the rich before the doors of the cathedral, as a suitable homage to the Church. The Onslows have carriages in abundance, and their liveries are gorgeous and splendid!"

"It was her own choice," said Nina; "she is a singular girl for one that never before knew luxury of any kind."

"I hate these simple tastes," growled out the padre; "they bespeak that obstinacy which people call a 'calm temperament.' Her own dress, too, has no indication of her rank, Nina."

"That shall be cared for, padre."

"Why shouldn't that young soldier come along with her? Tell him that our choir is magnificent; whisper him that the beautiful Marchesa di Guardoni sits on the very bench beside Miss Dalton."

Nina nodded an a.s.sent.

"The young girl herself is lax enough about her duties, Nina; she has not been even once to confession."

"That comes of these English!" cried Nina; "they make our service a constant jest. There is always some vulgar quizzing about saint-worship, or relic reverence, or the secrets of the confessional, going on amongst them."

"Does she permit this?" asked the priest, eagerly.

"She blushes sometimes, occasionally she smiles with a good-humor meant to deprecate these attacks, and now and then, when the sallies have been pushed too far, I have seen her in tears some hours after."

"Oh, if these heretics would but abstain from ridicule!" cried the canon. "The least lettered amongst them can scoff and gibe and rail.

They have their stock subjects of sarcasm, too, handed down from father to son, poor, witless little blasphemies, thefts from Voltaire, who laughed at themselves, and much mischief do they work! Let them begin to read, however, let them commence to 'inquire,' as the phrase has it, and the game is our own."

"I think, padre," said Jekyl, "that more of your English converts are made upon principles of pure economy. Popery, like truffles, is so cheap abroad!"

"Away with you! away with you!" cried the padre, rebukingly. "They come to us as the children seek their mother's breast. Hand me the maccaroni."

"Padre mio," broke in Jekyl, "I wish you would be Catholic enough to be less Popish. We have other plots in hand here, besides increasing the funds of the 'Holy Carmelites;' and while we are disputing about the spoil, the game may betake themselves to other hunting-grounds. These Onslows must not be suffered to go hence."

"Albert is right," interposed Nina. "When the 'Midchekoff' condescends to think himself in love with the Dalton girl, when the Guardsman has lost some thousands more than he can pay, when my Lady has offended one half of Florence and bullied the other, then the city will have taken a hold upon their hearts, and you may begin your crusade when you please.

Indeed, I am not sure, if the season be a dull one, I would not listen to you myself."

"As you listened once before to the Abbe D'Esmonde," said the canon, maliciously.

The girl's cheek became deep red, and even over neck and shoulders the scarlet flush spread, while her eyes flashed a look of fiery pa.s.sion.

"Do you dare are you insolent enough to--"

Her indignation had carried her thus far, when, by a sudden change of temper, she stopped, and clasping her hands over her face, burst into tears.

Jekyl motioned the priest to be silent, while, gently leading the other into the adjoining room, he drew the curtain, and left her alone.

"How could you say that?" said he, "you, padre, who know that this is more than jest?"

"Spare not the sinner, neither let the stripes be light, 'Non sit levis flagella,' says Origen."

"Are the ortolans good, padre?" asked Jekyl, while his eye glittered with an intense appreciation of the old canon's hypocrisy.

"They, are delicious! succulent and tender," said the priest, wiping his lips. "Francesco does them to perfection."

"You at least believe in a cook," said Jekyl, but in so low a voice as to escape the other's notice.

"She is sobbing still," said the canon, in a whisper, and with a gesture towards the curtained doorway. "I like to hear them gulping down their sighs. It is like the glug-glug of a rich flask of 'Lagrime.'"

"But don't you pity them, padre?" asked Jekyl, in mock earnestness.

"Never! never! First of all, they do not suffer in all these outbursts.

It is but decanting their feelings into another vessel, and they love it themselves! I have had them for hours together thus in the confessional, and they go away after, so relieved in mind and so light of heart, there 's no believing it."

"But Nina," said Jekyl, seriously, "is not one of these."

"She is a woman," rejoined the padre, "and it is only a priest can read them."

"You see human nature as the physician does, padre, always in some aspect of suffering. Of its moods of mirth and levity you know less than we do, who pa.s.s more b.u.t.terfly lives!"

"True in one sense, boy; ours are the stony paths, ours are the weary roads in life! I like that Burgundy."

"It 's very pleasant, padre. It is part of a case I ordered for the Onslows, but their butler shook the bottle when bringing it to table, and they begged me to get rid of it."

"These wines are not suited to Italy generally," said the canon; "but Florence has the merit of possessing all climates within the bounds of a single day, and even Chambertin is scarcely generous enough when the Tramontana is blowing!"

"Well, have you become better mannered? May I venture to come in?" cried Nina, appearing at the doorway.

"'Venga pure! Venga pure!'" growled out the canon. "I forgive thee everything. Sit down beside me, and let us pledge a friendship forever."

"There, then, let this be a peace-offering," said she, taking the wreath of flowers from her own head and placing it on the brows of the padre.

"You are now like the old Bacchus in the Boboli."

"And thou like--"

"Like what? Speak it out!" cried she, angrily.