These arms are set with rubies en cabochon, except one, which is cut in facets.  The arms are welded beneath the bowl and form the stem.  Midway of the stem, and pierced by it, is a diamond, as large”—­the cardinal picked up his teaspoon and looked at it—­“yes,” he said, “as large as the bowl of this spoon.  The foot of the cup is an emerald, flat on the bottom and joined to the stem by a ferrule of transparent enamel.  If this treasure were offered for sale the wealth of the world would fight for it.  No, no, my lord, you cannot have the cup.  Take your four thousand pounds to Testolini, the jeweller, and buy a string of pearls.  Very few good women can resist pearls.”

“Your grace,” said the earl, rising, “I appreciate fully the absurdity of my errand and the kindness of your forbearance.  I fear, however, that you scarcely grasp the situation.  I am going to marry Lady Nora.  I cannot marry her without the cup.  You perceive the conclusion—­I shall have the cup.  Good-by, your grace; I thank you for your patience.”

“Good-by,” said the cardinal, ringing for a servant.  “I wish that I might serve you; but, when children cry for the moon, what is to be done?  Come and see me again; I am nearly always at home about this hour.”

“I repeat, your grace,” said the earl, “that I shall have the cup.  All is fair in love and war, is it not?”

There was a certain quality in the earl’s voice—­that quiet, even note of sincerity which quells riots, which quiets horses, which leads forlorn hopes, and the well-trained ear of the cardinal recognized it.

“Pietro,” he said to the servant who answered the bell, “I am going out.  My hat and stick.  I will go a little way with you, my lord.”

They went down the broad stairs together, and the earl noticed, for the first time, that his companion limped.

“Gout?” he asked.

“No,” said the cardinal; “the indiscretion of youth.  I was with Garibaldi and caught a bullet.”

“Take my arm,” said the earl.

“Willingly,” said the cardinal, “since I know that you will bring me into the presence of a woman worth seeing; a woman who can compel a peer of England to meditate a theft.”

“How do you know that?” exclaimed the earl; and he stopped so abruptly that the cardinal put his free hand against his companion’s breast to right himself.

“Because,” said the cardinal, “I saw your face when you said good-by to me.  It was not a pleasant face.”

II

They went on silently and soon they came to the Piazza.

“I don’t see her,” said the earl; “perhaps she has gone back to the church.”

They crossed the Piazza and entered St. Mark’s.

“Not here,” said the earl.

They walked up the south aisle and came to the anteroom of the treasury.  Its door was open.  They entered what had once been a tower of the old palace.  The door of the treasury was also open.  They went in and found the sacristan and a woman.  She held the turquoise cup in her hands.