“Now, my Sylvie, we must take the law into our own hands!  We must do all we can to save our friends.  The Cardinal must be thought of first.  If we are not quick to the rescue he will be sent ’into retreat,’ which can be translated as forced detention, otherwise imprisonment.  He must leave Rome to-night.  Now listen!”

And sitting down beside her, still holding her hand, he gave her an account of his meeting with Cyrillon Vergniaud, otherwise “Gys Grandit,” and told her of the sudden passion for Angela that had fired the soul of that fiery writer of the fiercest polemics against priestcraft that had as yet startled France.

“Knowing now all the intended machinations of Gherardi,” continued Aubrey, “what I suggest is this,—­that you, my Sylvie, should confide in the Princesse D’Agramont, who is fortunately for us, an enemy of the Vatican.  Arrange with her that she persuades Angela to return under her escort at once to Paris.  Angela is well enough to travel if great care be taken of her, and the Princesse will not spare that.  Cyrillon can go with them—­I should think that might be managed?”

He smiled as he put this question.  Sylvie smiled in answer and replied demurely—­

“I should think so!”

“But the Cardinal,” resumed Aubrey, “and—­and Manuel—­must go to-night.  I will see Prince Sovrani and arrange it.  And Sylvie—­will you marry me to-morrow morning?”

Her eyes opened wide and she laughed.

“Why yes, if you wish it!” she said.  “But—­so soon?”

“Darling, the sooner the better!  I mean to take every possible method of making our marriage binding in the sight of the world, before the Vatican has time to launch its thunders.  If you are willing, we can be married at the American Consulate to-morrow morning.  You must remember that though born of British parents, I do not resign my American citizenship, and would not forego being of the New World for all the old worlds ever made!  The American Consul knows me well, and he will begin to make things legal for us to-morrow if you are ready.”

“Begin to make things legal?” echoed Sylvie smiling.  “Will he do no more than begin?”

“My sweetheart, he cannot.  He will make you mine according to American law.  In England, you will again be made mine according to English law.  And then afterwards we will have our religious ceremony!”

Sylvie looked at him perplexedly, then gave a pretty gesture of playful resignation.

“Let everything be as you wish and decide, Aubrey,” she said.”  I give my life and love to you, and have no other will but yours!”

He kissed her.

“I accept the submission, only to put myself more thoroughly at your command,” he said tenderly,—­“You are my queen,—­but with powerful enemies against us, I must see that you are rightfully enthroned!”