nsia had met him of her own accord, deliberately
enticing him into an ambush from which he had barely escaped with his
life, only to be insulted and struck in the face by her husband, who
was, of course, acquainted with the whole plan.

The Cardinal examined the purse minutely, then opened it and looked at
the contents. He guessed that the value of the gold must be about a
thousand crowns, as Ortensia had said it was. During this time she
quietly arranged her veil on her head, fastening it with the long silver
pin, and then put on the glove he had restored to her. At last he looked
up and spoke.

'Where one knows everything,' he observed, 'it is impossible not to be
surprised at the lamentable ignorance in which most people live. For
instance, if I had not this demonstration of the fact, which agrees well
with my own knowledge, I should find it hard to believe that you and
your husband could have been foolish enough to make friends with the
very men whom your uncle the Senator Pignaver had sent to murder you.'

'We were deceived, Eminence,' answered Ortensia. 'I need not tell you
how, since everything is known to you. All I ask is my husband's
liberty.'

'Your husband, madam, appears to have broken my nephew's nose,' replied
the Cardinal, with the utmost gravity. 'Moreover, Alberto is not only my
own nephew by blood, but His Holiness's also, both in fact, as the son
of the Pope's niece, Donna Lucia, and also by formal adoption. I doubt
whether His Holiness will easily overlook such an offence. To break the
nose of a Pope's nephew, madam, is a serious matter. I would have you
understand that.'

'Then send me to prison with my husband!' cried Ortensia desperately.

The Cardinal slowly rubbed his pale chin with his amethyst ring, and
looked at her.

'There may be an alternative to that somewhat extreme course,' he
observed. 'Calm yourself, I beg of you, and I will see His Holiness as
soon as possible. In the meantime, it would be well for you to take some
rest.'

'Rest!' Ortensia exclaimed. 'How can I rest while he is in prison,
unless I can be near him?'

'I cannot see the connection of ideas,' the Cardinal answered coldly.

He looked at her with some curiosity, for he had never been in love with
anything but power since he had first gone to school.

He rang a gilt bell that stood beside the gilt inkstand, and a
grey-haired priest, still unshaven and shabbily dressed, came at the
call. His face was as yellow