"But why," asked she, "why did you give yourself such
superfluous pains? Why couldn't you ask me for the money
point-blank? Why lure it from me, by trick and device?"
The Cardinal chuckled.
"Ah, one must keep one's hand in. And one must not look like a
Jesuit for nothing."
"Do you look like a Jesuit?"
"I have been told so."
"By whom--for mercy's sake?"
"By a gentleman I had the pleasure of meeting not long ago in
the train--a very gorgeous gentleman, with gold chains and
diamonds flashing from every corner of his person, and a
splendid waxed moustache, and a bald head which, I think, was
made of polished pink coral. He turned to me in the most
affable manner, and said, 'I see, Reverend Sir, that you are a
Jesuit. There should be a fellow-feeling between you and me.
I am a Jew. Jews and Jesuits have an almost equally bad
name!'"
The Cardinal's humorous grey eyes swam in a glow of delighted
merriment.
"I could have hugged him for his 'almost.' I have been
wondering ever since whether in his mind it was the Jews or the
Jesuits who benefited by that reservation. I have been
wondering also what I ought to have replied."
"What did you reply?" asked Beatrice, curious.
"No, no," said the Cardinal. "With sentiments of the highest
consideration, I must respectfully decline to tell you. It was
too flat. I am humiliated whenever I recall it."
"You might have replied that the Jews, at least, have the
advantage of meriting their bad name," she suggested.
"Oh, my dear child!" objected he. "My reply was flat--you
would have had it sharp. I should have hurt the poor
well-meaning man's feelings, and perhaps have burdened my own
soul with a falsehood, into the bargain. Who are we, to judge
whether people merit their bad name or not? No, no. The
humiliating circumstance is, that if I had possessed the
substance as well as the show, if I had really been a son of
St. Ignatius, I should have found a retort that would have
effected the Jew's conversion."
"And apropos of conversions," said Beatrice, "see how far we
have strayed from our muttons."
"Our muttons--?" The Cardinal looked up, enquiring.
"I want to know what you think--not of my hat--but of my man."
"Oh--ah, yes; your Englishman, your tenant." The Cardinal
nodded.
"My Englishman--my tenant--my heretic," said she.