“There are worse things than death,” he said simply.

Gherardi smiled kindly.

“And there are worse things than life!” he said,

“Life holds a good many harmless enjoyments, which I am afraid you are putting away from you in your prime, for the sake of a mere chimera.  But—­after all, what does it matter!  One must have a hobby!  Some men like horse-racing, others book-collecting,—­others pictures,—­and so forth—­you like the religious question!  Well, no doubt it affords you a great many opportunities of studying character.  I shall be very happy—­” here he extended his hand cordially, “to show you anything that may be of interest to you in Rome, and to present you to any of our brethren that may assist you in your researches.  I can give you a letter to Rampolla—­”

Aubrey declined the offered introduction with a decided negative shake of his head.

“No,” he said, “I know Cardinal Bonpre; that is enough!”

“But there is a great difference between Rampolla and Bonpre,” said Gherardi, with twinkling eyes, “Bonpre is scarcely ever in Rome.  He lives a life apart—­and has for a long while been considered as a kind of saint from the privacy and austerity of his life.  But he has heralded his arrival in the Eternal City triumphantly—­by the performance of a miracle!  What do you say to this?—­you who would do away with things miraculous?”

“I say nothing till I hear,” answered Aubrey, “I must know what the nature of the so-called miracle is.  I am a believer in soul-forces, and in the exhalation of spiritual qualities affecting or influencing others:  but in this there is no miracle, it is simply natural law.”

“Well, you must interview the Cardinal yourself,” said Gherardi indulgently, “and tell me afterwards what you think about it, if indeed you think anything.  But you will not find him at home this morning.  He is summoned to the Vatican.”

“On account of the miracle?—­or the scandal affecting the Abbe Vergniaud?” asked Aubrey.

“Both matters are under discussion, I believe,” replied Gherardi evasively, “But they are not in my province.  Now, can I be of any further service to you, Mr. Leigh?”

“No.  I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time,” said Aubrey, “But I think I understand your views—­”

“I hope you do,” interrupted Gherardi, “And that you will by and by grasp the fact that my views are shared by almost everyone holding any Church authority.  But you must go about in Rome, and make enquiries for yourself . . . now, let me see!  Do you know the Princesse D’Agramont?”

“No.”

“Oh, you must know her,—­she is a great friend of Donna Sovrani’s, and a witty and brilliant personage in herself.  She is rather of your way of thinking, and so is out of favour with the Church.  But that will not matter to you; and you will meet all the dissatisfied and enthusiastic of the earth in her salons!  I will tell her to send you a card.”