"Prince Sovrani!" he said. "I cannot condescend to converse with a
street ranter, such as this misguided person, who has most
regrettably obtained admission to your house and society! I came to
see your brother-in-law Cardinal Bonpre,--who has left Rome, you
tell me--therefore my business must be discussed with you alone. I
must ask you for a private audience."
Sovrani looked at him steadily.
"And I must refuse it, Monsignor! If in private audience you wish to
repeat the amazing falsehood you have just uttered respecting my
daughter's work--I am afraid I should hardly keep my hands off you!
Believe me you are safest in company!"
Monsignor Gherardi paused a moment,--then turned towards Sylvie.
"Contessa," he said very deliberately. "You can perhaps arrange this
matter better than I can. Florian Varillo is dead--as I have told
you; and for stating what I believe to be the truth regarding him I
have been subjected to insult in your presence. I have known you for
many years and I knew your father before you,--I have no wish to
either distress or offend you,--do you understand? I am in your
hands!"
Sylvie looked him full in the face. "My husband will answer you,
Monsignor," she said. "I am in his hands!" Gherardi turned as
crimson as he had before been pale.
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