“I am going to be lectured I suppose,” she said laughingly.  “I have not seen the worthy Domenico since my engagement to Aubrey was announced!”

Angela looked at her intently.

“Are you at all prepared for what he will say?”

“Not in the least.  What can he say?”

“Much that may vex you,” said Angela.  “Considering Aubrey Leigh’s theories, he may perhaps reproach you for your intended marriage—­or he may bring you information of the Pope’s objection.”

“Well!  What of that?” demanded Sylvie.

“But you are a devout Catholic—­”

“And you?  With a great Cardinal for your uncle you paint ’The Coming of Christ’!  Ah!—­I have seen that picture, Angela!”

“But I am different,—­I am a worker, and I fear nothing,” said Angela, her eyes beginning to shine with the latent force in her that was gradually resuming its dominion over her soul—­“I thought long and deeply before I put my thought into shape—­”

“And I thought long and deeply before I decided to be the companion of Aubrey’s life and work!” said Sylvie resolutely.  “And neither the Pope or a whole college of Cardinals will change my love or prevent my marriage.  A riverderci!”

“A riverderci!” echoed Angela, raising herself a little to receive the kiss her friend tenderly pressed on her cheeks.  “I shall be anxious to know the result of your interview!”

“I will come round early to-morrow and tell you all,” promised Sylvie, “for I mean to find out, if I can, what happened at the Vatican when Cardinal Bonpre last went there with Manuel.”

“My uncle is most anxious to leave Rome,” said Angela musingly.

“I know.  And if there is any plot against him he must leave Rome—­he shall leave it!  And we will help him!”

With that she went her way, and an hour or so later stood, a perfect picture of grace and beauty, in the grand old rooms of the Casa D’Angeli, waiting to receive Gherardi.  She had taken more than the usual pains with her toilette this afternoon, and had chosen to wear a “creation” of wonderful old lace, with knots of primrose and violet velvet caught here and there among its folds.  It suited her small lissom figure to perfection, and her only ornaments were a cluster of fresh violets, and one ring sparkling on her left hand,—­ a star of rose brilliants and rubies, the sign of her betrothal.

Punctual to the hour appointed, Gherardi arrived, and was at once shown into her presence.  There was a touch of aggressiveness and irony in his manner as he entered with his usual slow and dignified step, and though he endeavoured to preserve that suavity and cold calmness for which he was usually admired and feared by women, his glance was impatient, and an occasional biting of his lips showed suppressed irritation.  The first formal greetings over, he said—­

“I have wished for some time to call upon you, Contessa, but the pressure of affairs at the Vatican—­”