"Your sentiments are very pretty and poetic!" he said, "But they are
exaggerated. That book is on the 'Index'!"
"Yes, of course it would be!" answered Sylvie quietly, "I have often
wondered why so much fine literature is condemned by the Church,--
and do you know, it occurred to me the other day that if our Lord
had WRITTEN what He said in the form of a book, it might be placed
on the 'Index' also?"
Gherardi lifted his eyes from their scrutiny of the ground, and
fixed them upon her with a look of amazement that was almost a
menace. But she was not in the least intimidated,--and her face,
though pale as the narcissi she had just seen in blossom, was very
tranquil.
"Are you the Comtesse Hermenstein?" said Gherardi then, after an
impressive pause, "The faithful, gentle daughter of Holy Church? or
are you some perverted spirit wearing her semblance?"
Sylvie laughed.
"If I am a perverted spirit you ought to be able to exorcise me,
Monsignor!" she said,--"With the incense of early Mass clinging to
you, and the holy water still fresh on your hands, you have only to
say, 'Retro me Sathanas!' and if I am NOT Sylvie Hermenstein I shall
melt into thin air, leaving nothing but the odour of sulphur behind
me! But if I AM Sylvie Hermenstein, I shall remain invincible and
immovable,--both in myself and in my opinions!"
Gherardi controlled his rising irritation, and was silent for some
minutes, reflecting within himself that if the fair Countess had
suddenly turned restive and wayward, it was probably because she was
falling in love with the author whose works she defended, and taking
this into consideration, he judged it would be wisest to temporise.
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