that he take his leave. He could only
hope that some of what he said would sink in and influence the
cardinal's thinking in the future.

Ugolini, standing before him, thrust his small hand suddenly under
Simon's nose, causing Simon to sit back, startled, in his chair. Then
Simon realized the cardinal was offering him his ring to kiss. He slid
out of the chair and dropped to one knee. He touched his lips to the
round, blue sapphire which betokened Ugolini's rank as a cardinal.

While he still knelt, the door behind Ugolini swung open. Feeling
awkward, Simon started to scramble to his feet.

As he did so, he saw the woman. Her features were delicate, her lips
full, her eyes dark and challenging. She wore a yellow gown tied under
her bosom by an orange ribbon. Simon stared at her, open-mouthed, until
he realized he was in a half-crouching position that must look
perfectly ridiculous. He shut his mouth. He slowly straightened.

"Buon giorno, my dear Sophia!" said Cardinal Ugolini. "Let me introduce
our distinguished visitor."

He first presented Simon to the young woman and then presented her to
him. "My niece, Sophia Orfali, daughter of my sister who lives at
Siracusa, in Sicily."

It registered somewhere in Simon's mind that Sicily was part of the
Hohenstaufen kingdom, and it occurred to him to wonder whether Sophia
was of gentle birth. It struck him with much greater impact that she was
an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Swallowing hard, he bowed over her
hand. His fingertips pressing into her palm felt as if they were
burning. His lips touched the back of her hand lightly; his eyes filled
with smooth, cream-colored skin and the pale blue tint of delicate
veins. As he stepped back he noticed that she gave off a faint scent of
oranges.

She stood looking at him with a small, self-possessed smile, waiting for
him to speak. All sorts of absurd phrases and sentences flooded into his
mind--outrageous compliments, declarations of love. The upper part of
her gown was pulled tight, and he had to make an effort to keep his eyes
from her breasts. His face burned and his throat felt parched.

"Buon giorno, Signora," he choked out. "It is a great honor to meet
you."

Her fine arched eyebrows lifted slightly and she answered him in French.
"Why do you not speak your native language, Monseigneur?"

Simon's cheeks burned hotter. "I assumed you would prefer Italian,
Madame."

She smiled, and Simon felt there was a shade o