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For my part, I accept the teaching of the Church wholesale. It seems simpler." "Until you come to think about it," said the ex-cardinal. "Then it ceases to be simple, and becomes difficult and elaborate to a high degree. Too difficult for a simple soul like myself.
So, as this business was already far advanced on the day when Caesar doffed his scarlet and donned a secular garb, thus fulfilling the ambition so long cherished, when the lord of Villeneuve, sent by Louis and commissioned to bring Caesar to France, presented himself before the ex-cardinal on his arrival at Rome, the latter, with his usual extravagance of luxury and the kindness he knew well how to bestow on those he needed, entertained his guest for a month, and did all the honours of Rome.
"Ah, that is a Bernard Shaw phrase. A bad play, that, but excellent dialogue.... But he is good-looking, Mr. Wilbraham." Henry moodily supposed that he was. "In a sort of smug, cold way," he admitted. "E cosa fa tra questo bel giovanotto e quel Charles Wilbraham?" wondered the ex-cardinal, within himself.
Henry gazed at the ex-cardinal with the wide, ferocious stare of the slightly intoxicated. "What would you say if I told you that a certain highly placed official on the League of Nations Secretariat has enormous sums of money invested in an armaments business? That he derives nearly all his income from it?
Franchi, cracking a walnut, "it is difficult to be an atheist." "Why so?" asked Henry dreamily, biting a ripe black fig, and wishing that the ex-cardinal had not thought it necessary to give so lovely and familiar an opening phrase so tedious an end. "Don't tell me," he added quickly, repenting his thoughtless question. "What nightingales! What figs! And what apricocks!"
If Canon Waring had heard these spiteful on-dits, he paid no attention to them; he was a high-minded enthusiast, and knew a gentleman and a scholar when he saw one. "The correspondent of the British Bolshevist," he added, "and a co-religionist of Your Eminence's." The ex-cardinal gave Henry his delicate hand, and a shrewd and agreeable smile. "I am glad to meet you, Mr. Beechtree.
At last the ex-Cardinal Robert succeeded, and triumphantly entered Urbania in November 1579. His accession was marked by moderation and clemency. Not a man was put to death, save Oliverotto da Narni, who threw himself on the new Duke, tried to stab him as he alighted at the palace, and who was cut down by the Duke's men, crying, "Orsini, Orsini! Medea, Medea!
And now he lives in the most delightful of mediæval châteaux at Monet, a little village up the lake. I have been to see him there. If I may, I will introduce you. He enjoys making the acquaintance of his co-religionists. In this Calvinistic part of the world the educated classes are nearly all Protestants. The ex-cardinal does not care for Protestants; he finds them parvenus and bourgeois.
The ex-cardinal had barely time to look round at the noise of entry before three policemen seized him firmly and snapped handcuffs on his wrists. It was a scene the like of which, it is safe to say, had never before been seen among all the strange scenes which had been enacted along the shores of that most lovely lake. A strange scene, and a strange company.
How Henry, after his recent experiences of cheap cafés, again enjoyed eating a meal fit for a gentleman. How kind, he reflected, was this ex-cardinal, who, having met him but once, asked him to such a pleasant entertainment. Why was it? He must try to be worthy of it, to seem cultivated and agreeable and intelligent.
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