"The Comtesse Sylvie Hermenstein is the little magic flower you must
use;" resumed Moretti, emphasising his words with an authoritative
movement of his hand, "Use her to madden Aubrey Leigh. Bring them
together;--he will lose his head as surely as all men do when they
come under the influence of that soft deep-eyed creature, with the
full white breast of a dove, and the smile of an angel,--and
remember, it would be an excellent thing for the Church if he could
be persuaded to marry her,--there would be no more preaching then!--
for the thoughts of love would outweigh the theories of religion."
"You think it?" queried Gherardi dubiously.
"I know it!" replied Moretti rising, and preparing to take his
departure, "But,--play the game cautiously! Make no false move. For-
-understand me well, this man Leigh must be silenced, or we shall
lose England!"
And with these last words he turned abruptly on his heel and left
the apartment.
XXII.
Cardinal Felix Bonpre sat alone in the largest and loneliest room of
the large and lonely suite of rooms allotted to him in the Palazzo
Sovrani,--alone at a massive writing table near the window, his head
resting on one hand, and his whole figure expressive of the most
profound dejection.
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