otives, for
greed of gold or love of woman, and were yet saved by the intercession
of some heavenly patron, or found it worth while not to be saved at all.
Domenico, like them, put the question of salvation behind him. He might
think of that afterwards, when he had possessed himself of the proportion
of the ancients. At all events, at present he was willing to risk
everything in order to attain that. He was determined to see that god of
the heathens, not as he had seen him once in the house of Messer Neri
Altoviti, cut out of marble, but alive, moving, speaking; for _that_ was
the god.

The god was a devil. Now it is well known that there is a way of
compelling every devil to show himself, providing you use sufficiently
strong spells. They had sacrificed goats and lambs enough, also doves,
and had burned perfumes, and spilt wine sufficient for one of Cardinal
Riario's suppers. It was evidently not that sort of sacrifice which
would rejoice the god or compel him to show himself. For weeks and weeks
Domenico ruminated over the subject. And little by little the logical,
inevitable answer dawned upon his horrified but determined mind. For
what was the sacrifice which witches and warlocks notoriously offered
their Master?

The place could not be better chosen. This church was full, every one
knew, of demons, who were certainly none other than the gods of the
heathen, as Tertullian, Lactantius, Athenagoras, Justin Martyr, and all
those other holy doctors had written. It was deserted, its keys in the
hands of Cardinal Capranica's confidential architect and decorator; and
there were masses being said every holiday to scare the evil spirits.
The sacrament was frequently left on the altar.

All this Domenico expounded frequently to Filarete. But Filarete's
classic taste did not approve of Domenico's methods, which savoured of
vulgar witchcraft; perhaps also the learned man, who did not want the
secret of antique proportion, recoiled from a degree of profanity and of
danger, both to body and soul, which his companion willingly incurred in
such a quest as his. So Filarete demurred for a time, until at length
his feebler nature took fire at Domenico's determination, and the guilty
pair fixed upon the day and place for this unspeakable sacrilege.

The Church of SS. Jervase and Protasius has undergone no change since
the feast of Corpus Christi of the year 1488. The damp that lies in the
atrium outside, making the grass and poppie