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.

"Well," said he, pondering, while the parentheses became marked
again,--"I should think, from what you tell me, that you would
find him a useful neighbour. Let me see . . . You got fifty
lire out of him, for a word; and the children went off,
blessing you as their benefactress. I should think that you
would find him a valuable neighbour--and that he, on his side,
might find you an expensive one."

Beatrice, with a gesture, implored him to be serious.

"Ah, please don't tease about this," she said. "I want to know
what you think of his conversion?"

"The conversion of a heretic is always 'a consummation devoutly
to be desired,' as well, you may settle it between Shakespeare
and Byron, to suit yourself. And there are none so devoutly