then! That is plainly your duty, if anything is!'

The Mother Superior looked at him quickly, as if not believing that he
was in earnest, for she had been convincing herself that it was he who
had carried off Ortensia, pretending to be Stradella.

'It must be a very easy thing for you,' Gambardella continued. 'You have
your own church here, and your own priest, who will probably obey you.
If you are afraid of committing an irregularity, you need only send a
request to the Archbishop, explaining that a runaway couple, for whom
you can vouch, wish to have their union blessed. No good bishop would
refuse such a slight favour as a dispensation from publishing banns. My
friend and I will bring Stradella here early in the morning, and you
will send the bride into the church from the convent. They will go away
man and wife, and before noon we shall all be many miles on the road to
Bologna and Rome. Could anything be simpler than that? or more perfectly
right? or more honourable for you under the circumstances?'

The nun had listened attentively, and when he had finished she nodded
her approval.

'I believe you are right,' she said, though her tone betrayed some
surprise that she could approve anything which he suggested. 'I will
take it upon myself to promise that our chaplain shall be waiting
to-morrow morning after matins, and that the bride shall be ready in
the sacristy. Poor child, she is poorly provided for her wedding! But I
will find a veil for her.'

'She will be grateful, and Stradella too. I have no doubt but that my
friend has already obtained his liberation.'

'What is your friend's name?' asked the Mother Superior, showing some
curiosity for the first time since the interview had begun.

Gambardella hesitated a moment, for the simple reason that he did not
know the answer to the question, and that 'Trombin' alone was evidently
not a name, but a nickname. The mere fact that the friends had both once
had a right to sit in the Grand Council by no means implied that they
had known each other, even by sight. To gain time Gambardella smiled and
asked a counter-question.

'Why do you wish to learn his name?' he asked. 'You can never have known
him.'

'That is true. It was idle curiosity. I do not care to know.'

'It is no secret,' Gambardella answered, having in the meantime thought
of a name that would do. 'My friend is Gaspero Mastropiero, a Venetian
gentleman of fortune and a great patron of musicians. And