I suppose.  It is not fitting that noble minds should even possess the faculty of forgetting real suffering in the unreal trifles of a great worldly possession, which so easily restore the weak to courage, and natter the vulgar into the forgetfulness of honourable sorrow.  I am no moraliser, no pedantic philosopher.  The stoic may have shrugged his heavy shoulders in sullen indifference to fate; the epicurean may have found such bodily ease in his excessive refinement of moderate enjoyment as to overlook the deepest afflictions in anticipating the animal pleasure of the next meal.  I cannot conceive of such men as those philosophising diners; nor can I imagine by what arguments the wisest of mankind could induce a fellow-creature in distress to forget his sufferings.  Sorrow is sorrow still to all finely organised natures.  The capacity for feeling sorrow is one of the highest tests of nobility—­a nobility of nature not found always in those of high blood and birth, but existing in the people, wherever the people are good.”

The Cardinal’s voice became even more gentle as he spoke.  He was himself of very humble origin, and spoke feelingly.  Corona listened, though she only heard half of what he said; but his soft tone soothed her almost unconsciously.

“There is little consolation for me—­I am quite alone,” she said.

“You are not of those who find relief in worldly greatness,” continued the Cardinal.  “But I have seen women, young, rich, and beautiful, wear their mourning with wonderful composure.  Youth is so much, wealth is so much more, beauty is such a power in the world—­all three together are resistless.  Many a young widow is not ashamed to think of marriage before her husband has been dead a month.  Indeed they do not always make bad wives.  A woman who has been married young and is early deprived of her husband, has great experience, great knowledge of the world.  Many feel that they have no right to waste the goods given them in a life of solitary mourning.  Wealth is given to be used, and perhaps many a rich young widow thinks she can use it more wisely in the company of a husband young as herself.  It may be; I cannot tell.  These are days when power of any sort should be used, and perhaps no one should even for a moment think of withdrawing from the scene where such great battles are being fought.  But one may choose wisely a way of using power, or one may choose unwisely.  There is much to be done.”

“How?” asked Corona, catching at his expression of an idea which pursued her.  “Here am I, rich, alone, idle—­above all, very unhappy.  What can I do?  I wish I knew, for I would try and do it.”