'
'Oh--oh!'
'But this case is very different, or rather the difference lies in the
heroine of the possible drama.'
'You mean--'
'That Maria Ferres is a _turris eburnea_.'
'And I am now a _vas spirituale_.'
'Ah yes, I had forgotten that you had, at last, found the Truth and the
Way--"'The glad soul laughs because its loves have fled--'"
'What--you are quoting my verses?'
'I know them by heart.'
'How sweet of you!'
'However, I confess, my dear cousin, that your "fair white woman"
holding the Host in her pure hands seems to me a trifle suspicious. She
has, to my mind, too much of the air of a hollow shape, a robe without a
body inside it, at the mercy of whatever soul, be it angel or demon,
that chooses to enter it and offer you the communion.
'But this is sacrilege--rank sacrilege!'
'Ah, you had better take care! Watch that figure and use plenty of
exorcisms--But there, I am prophesying again! Really, it seems a
weakness of mine.'
'Here we are at the station.'
They both laughed, and all three entered the little station to wait for
the train, which was due in a few minutes. Fernandino a sickly-looking
boy of twelve, was carrying a bouquet which he was to present to Donna
Maria. Andrea, put in excellent spirits by his little conversation with
his cousin, took a tea-rose from the bouquet and stuck it in his
button-hole, then cast a rapid glance over his light summer clothes and
noticed with complaisance that his hands had become whiter and thinner
since his illness.
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