here,--Manella Soriso--has made up her
mind to be the wife of this unfortunate--"

Ardini gave an expressive gesture.

"Altro! If she has made up her mind, heaven itself will not move her!
It will be a sublime sacrifice of one life for another,--what would
you? Such sacrifices are common, though the world does not hear of
them. In this instance there is no one to prevent it."

"You approve--you tolerate it?" exclaimed Rivardi angrily.

"I have no power to approve or to tolerate"--replied the scientist,
coldly--"The matter is not one in which I have any right to interfere.
Nor,--I think,--have YOU!--I have stated such facts as exist--that the
man's brain is practically destroyed--but that owing to the strength of
the life-centres he will probably exist in his present condition for a
full term of years. To keep him so alive will entail considerable care
and expense. He will need a male nurse--probably two--food of the best
and absolutely tranquil surroundings. If the Signora, who is rich and
generous, guarantees these necessities, and the girl who loves him
desires to be his wife under such terrible conditions, I do not see how
anyone can object to the marriage."

"Then he poor devil of a man will be married without his knowledge, and
probably (if he had his senses) against his will!" said Rivardi.

Ardini bent his brows yet more frowningly.

"Just so!" he answered--"But he has neither knowledge nor will--nor is
he likely ever to have them again. These great attributes of the god in
man have been taken from him. Power and Will!--Will and Power!--the two
wings of the Soul!--they are gone, probably for ever. Science can do
nothing to bring them back, but I will not deny the possibility of
other forces which might work a remedy on this ruin of a 'master of the
world' as he calls himself! Therefore I say let the love-woman try her
best!"

CHAPTER XXVI

Don Aloysius sat in his private library,--a room little larger than a
monastic cell, and at his feet knelt Morgana like a child at prayer.
The rose and purple glow of the sunset fell aslant through a high oriel
window of painted glass, shedding an aureole round her golden head, and
intensified the fine, dark intellectual outline of the priest's
features as he listened with fixed attention to the soft pure voice,
vibrating with tenderness and pity as she told him of the love that
sought to sacrifice itself for love's sake only.

"In your Creed and in mine,"--