much need the
turquoise cup."

"Are you a professional or an amateur?" asked the cardinal, his eyes
flashing, his lips twitching.

"As I understand it," said the earl, slowly, a faint blush stealing into
his cheeks, "an 'amateur' is a lover. If that is right, perhaps you had
better put me down as an 'amateur.'"

The cardinal saw the blush and his anger vanished.

"Ah," he said, softly, "there is a woman, is there?"

"Yes," replied the earl, "there is a woman."

"Well," said the cardinal, "I am listening."

"It won't bore you?" asked the earl. "If I begin about her I sha'n't
know when to stop."

"My lord," said the cardinal, "if there were no women there would be no
priests. Our occupation would be gone. There was a time when _men_ built
churches, beautified them, and went to them. How is it now; even here in
Venice, where art still exists, and where there is no bourse? I was
speaking with a man only to-day--a man of affairs, one who buys and
sells, who has agents in foreign lands and ships on the seas; a man who,
in the old religious days, would have given a tenth of all his goods to
the Church and would have found honor and contentment in the remainder;
but he is bitten with this new-fangled belief of disbelief. He has a
sneaking fear that Christianity has been supplanted by electricity and
he worships Huxley rather than Christ crucified--Huxley!" and the
cardinal threw up his hands. "Did ever a man die the easier because he
had grovelled at the knees of Huxley? What did Huxley preach? The
doctrine of despair. He was the Pope of protoplasm. He beat his wings
against the bars of the unknowable. He set his finite mind the task of
solving the infinite. A mere creature, he sought to fathom the mind of
his creator. Read the lines upon his tomb, written by his wife--what do
they teach? Nothing but 'let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' If
a man follows Huxley, then is he a fool if he does not give to this poor
squeezed-lemon of a world another twist. If I believed there was nothing
after this life, do you think I should be sitting here, feeding the
pigeons? Do you think--but there, I have aired my English speech and
have had my fling at Huxley. Let me fill your cup and then tell me of
this woman whom I have kept waiting all this time by my vanity and my
ill manners. Is she English, French, Spanish, or American? There are
many Americans nowadays."

"No," said the earl, "she is Irish."

"The most dangerous