“No,” said Manuel, answering for himself, “I have no Church.”

“No Church!” exclaimed Moretti, “His Eminence must educate you, boy.  You must be received.”

“Yes,” said Manuel, raising his eyes, and fixing them full on Moretti, “I must be received!  I need education to understand the Church.  And so,—­for me to be received might be difficult!”

XVI.

As he thus spoke, slowly and with an exquisite softness, something in his voice, manner, or words aroused a sudden and violent antipathy in Moretti’s mind.  He became curiously annoyed, without any possible cause, and out of his annoyance answered roughly.

“Ignorance is always difficult to deal with,” he said, “But if it is not accompanied by self-will or obstinacy—­(and boys of your age are apt to be self-willed and obstinate)—­then much can be done.  The Church has infinite patience even with refractory sinners.”

“Has it?” asked Manuel simply, and his clear eyes, turning slowly towards Vergniaud and his son, rested there a moment, and then came back to fix the same steady look upon Moretti’s face.  Not another word did he say,—­but Moretti flushed darkly, and anon grew very pale.  Restraining his emotions however by an effort, he addressed himself with cold formality once more to the Abbe.

“You have no explanation then to offer to His Holiness, beyond what you have already said?”

“None!” replied Vergniaud steadily.  “The reasons for my conduct I think are sufficiently vital and earnest to be easily understood.”

“And your Eminence has nothing more to say on this matter?” pursued Moretti, turning to the Cardinal.

“Nothing, my son!  But I would urge that the Holy Father should extend his pardon to the offenders, the more so as one of them is on the verge of that land where we ‘go hence and are no more seen.’”

Moretti’s eyelids quivered, and his lips drew together in a hard and cruel line.

“I will assuredly represent your wishes to His Holiness,” he replied, “But I doubt whether they will meet with so much approval as surprise and regret.  I have the honour to wish your Eminence farewell!”

“Farewell, my son!” said the Cardinal mildly, “Benedicite!”

Moretti bent down, as custom forced him to do, under the gently uttered blessing, and the extended thin white hand that signed the cross above him.  Then with a furtive under-glance at Manuel, whose quiet and contemplative observation of him greatly vexed and disturbed his composure, he left the room.

There was a short silence.  Then Abbe Vergniaud, somewhat hesitatingly, approached Bonpre.

“I much fear, my dear friend, that all this means unpleasantness for you at the Vatican,” he said, “And I sincerely grieve to be the means of bringing you into any trouble.”