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Updated: May 25, 2025
"A man like you with a dozen secret intrigues in Rome, should surely be able to grasp a situation better! Angela Sovrani lives, I tell you, I am here to help you to kill her more surely! Your first attempt was clumsy, and dangerous to yourself, but murder her reputation, amico, murder her reputation! and so build up your own!" Slowly Varillo turned his eyes upon him.
Some people might say that without meaning it, but you meant what you said, every word came straight from your heart. And should it then surprise you that God has granted your prayer?" Prince Sovrani listened to the dulcet young voice with a strange emotion.
"And I also swear to you that the picture yonder, which, though offensive to the Church and blasphemous in its teaching, is nevertheless a great masterpiece of painting, is the work of the unfortunate dead man you so greatly wrong!" "Liar!" And Cyrillon Vergniaud sprang forward, interposing himself between Sovrani and the priest. "Liar!" Gherardi turned a livid white.
There was a noise of hurrying footsteps and murmuring voices, that sort of half-muffled confusion in a household which bodes something wrong, and all at once Prince Sovrani threw open the door of the Cardinal's apartments without ceremony, crying out as he entered, "Where is Angela?" The Cardinal rose out of his chair, startled and alarmed. "Angela?" he echoed, "She is not here!" "Not here!"
With a wild, half-smothered cry Prince Sovrani sprang forward to see for himself if this blessed news was true. He and the Cardinal both, seized with a passionate anxiety, gazed and gazed at the fair beloved face in hope, in fear and longing, and still Manuel stood beside the couch, stroking the small hand he held with thoughtful care and tenderness.
And while these two simple-minded worthies were thus talking and strolling together home through the streets of Paris, Cyrillon Vergniaud, having parted from the few friends who had paid him the respect of their attendance at his father's grave, was making his way towards the Champs Elysees in a meditative frame of mind, when his attention was suddenly caught and riveted by a placard set up in front of one of the newspaper kiosks at the corner of a boulevard, on which in great black letters, was the name "Angela Sovrani."
I must do this myself, and think well of all I should say." He paused, then added, "They tell me Claude Cazeau, secretary to the Archbishop of Rouen brought the news of this so-called miracle to Rome. I should have liked to have seen that man to- night." "You will see him at the Vatican," said Sovrani. with a touch of irony, "That will be time enough! Oh, innocent Felix!
His young face was pale, yet tranquil and the deep tenderness that always dwelt in his eyes seemed deeper and softer at this moment than ever. "Truly I do not see why," said Prince Sovrani, bending his fierce regard full on the lad as he spoke, and beginning to wonder like the rest at his fairness and beauty, "Only as a rule, fanciuollo mio prayer is mere waste of breath a demand without supply."
"Thank God!" said Sovrani. Gherardi looked at him with an air of admirably affected sorrowful reproach. "I grieve for your injustice and cruelty, Prince!" he said "Some natural regret there should surely be in your mind at the tragic end of one so highly gifted one whom you had accepted as your future son-in-law. He met with a terrible death!
Gherardi glanced him up and down, and then turned from him in disgust as from something infected by a loathly disease. "Prince Sovrani!" he said. "I cannot condescend to converse with a street ranter, such as this misguided person, who has most regrettably obtained admission to your house and society!
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