"A dozen?" the Cardinal laughed. "Aren't you complicating the
question of mixed marriages with that of plural marriage?"

"'T was merely a little Hibernicism, for which I beg your
Eminence's indulgence," laughed she. "But what puts the most
spokes in a proselytiser's wheel is the Faith itself. If we
only deserved the reputation for sharp practice and double
dealing which the Protestants have foisted upon us, it would be
roses, roses, all the way. Why are we forbidden to let the end
justify the means? And where are those accommodements avec le
ciel of which we've heard? We're not even permitted a few poor
accommodements avec le monde."

"Look at my uncle's face," whispered the Duchessa to Peter.
The Cardinal's fine old face was all alight with amusement.
"In his fondness for taking things by their humorous end, he
has met an affinity."

"It will be a grand day for the Church and the nations, when we
have an Irish Pope," Mrs. O'Donovan Florence continued. "A
good, stalwart, militant Irishman is what's needed to set
everything right. With a sweet Irish tongue, he'd win home the
wandering sheep; and with a strong Irish arm, he'd drive the
wolves from the fold. It's he that would soon sweep the
Italians out of Rome."

"The Italians will soon be swept out of Rome by the natural
current of events," said the Cardinal. "But an Irish bishop of
my acquaintance insists that we have already had many Irish