“I am still at a loss to follow you, Contessa,” he said coldly.  “Surely you do not mean to imply that your marriage will sever you from the Church of your fathers?”

“Monsignor, marriage for me means an oath before God to take my husband for better or for worse, and to be true to him under all trial and circumstances,” said Sylvie.  “And I assuredly mean to keep that oath!  Whatever his form of faith, I intend to follow it,—­as I intend to obey his commands, whatever they may be, or wherever they may lead.  For this, to me, is the only true love,—­this to me, is the only possible ‘holy’ estate of matrimony.  And for the Church—­a Church which does not hesitate to excommunicate a dying man, and persecute a good one,—­I will leave the possibility of its wrath, together with all other consequences of my act—­to God!”

For one moment Gherardi felt that he could have sprung upon her and throttled her.  The next, he had mastered himself sufficiently to speak,—­this woman, so slight, so beautiful, so insolent should not baffle him, he resolved!—­and bending his dark brows menacingly, he addressed her in his harshest and most peremptory manner.

“You talk of God,” he said, “as a child talks of the sun and moon, with as little meaning, and less comprehension!  What impertinence it is for a woman like yourself,—­vain, weak and worldly,—­to assert your own will—­your own thought and opinion—­in the face of the Most High!  What!  You will desert the Church?  You whose ancestors have for ages been devout servants of the faith?  You, the last descendant of the Counts Hermenstein, a noble and loyal family, will degrade your birth by taking up with the rags and tags of humanity—­the scarecrows of life?  And by your sheer stupidity and obstinacy, you will allow your husband’s soul to be dragged to perdition with your own!  You call it love—­to keep him an infidel?  You call it marriage--to be united to him without the blessings of Holy Church?  Where is your reason?—­Where is your judgment?—­Where your faith?”

“Not in my bank, Monsignor!” replied Sylvie coldly.  “Though that is the place where you would naturally expect to find these virtues manifested, and the potency of their working substantially proved!  Pardon!—­I have no wish to offend—­but your manner to me is offensive, and unless you are disposed to discuss this matter temperately, I must close our interview!”

Gherardi flushed a dark red, then grew pale.  After all, the Countess Hermenstein was in her own house,—­she had the right to command his exit if she chose.  Small and slight as she was, she had a dignity and power as great as his own, and if anything was to be gained from her it was necessary to temporize.  Among many other qualifications for the part he had to play in life, he was an admirable actor, and would have made his fortune on the legitimate stage,—­and this “quick change” ability served him in good stead now.  He rose from his chair as though moved by uncontrollable agitation, and walked to the window, then turned again and came slowly and with bent head towards her.