Church?  Not she!  We in our day use neither poison nor cold steel—­but we know how to poison a name and stab a reputation!  What!  You shrink at that?  Listen yet—­listen a moment longer!  And remember that nothing escapes the vigilant eye of Rome!  At this very moment I can place my hand on Florian Varillo, concerning whom there is a rumour that he attempted the assassination of his betrothed wife,—­an inhuman deed that no sane man could ever have perpetrated”—­here Sylvie uttered a slight exclamation, and he paused, looking at her with a cold smile—­“Yes, I repeat it!—­a deed which no sane man could have perpetrated!  The unfortunate, the deeply wronged Florian Varillo, is prepared to swear, and I am prepared to swear with him, that he is guiltless of any such vile act or treachery—­and also that he painted more than half of the great picture this woman Sovrani claims as her own work!  Whilst strongly protesting against its heresy and begging her to alter certain figures in the canvas, still he gave her for love’s sake, all his masculine ability.  The blasphemous idea is hers—­but the drawing, the colouring, the grouping, are his!”

“He is a liar!” cried Sylvie passionately.  “Let him prove his lie!”

“He shall have every chance to prove it!” answered Gherardi calmly.  “I will give him every chance!  I will support what you call his lie! I say it is A truth!  No woman could have painted that picture!  And mark you well—­the mere discussion will be sufficient to kill the Sovrani’s fame!”

Heedless of his ecclesiastical dignity—­reckless of everything concerning herself-Sylvie rushed up to him and laid one hand on his arm.

“What!  Are you a servant of Christ,” she said half-whisperingly, “or a slave of the devil?”

“Both,” he answered, looking down upon her fair beauty with a wicked light shining in his eyes.  “Both!” and he grasped the little soft hand that lay on his arm and held it as in a vice.  “You are not wanting in courage, Contessa, to come so close to me!—­to let me hold your hand!  How pale you look!  If you were like other women you would scream—­or summon your servants, and create a scandal!  You know better!  You know that no scandal would ever be believed of a priest attached to the Court of Rome!  Stay there—­where you are—­I will not hurt you!  No—­by all the raging fire of love for you in my heart, I will not touch more than this hand of yours!  Good!—­Now you are quite still—­I say again, you have courage!  Your eyes do not flinch—­they look straight into mine—­what brave eyes!  You would search the very core of my intentions?  You shall!  Do you not think it enough for me—­who am human though priest—­to give you up to the possession of a man I hate!—­A man who has insulted me!  Is it not enough, I say, to immolate my own passion thus, without having to confront