The sound of Marzio's voice, mocking at all the priest held holy, would be in his ears and would mingle with the very words of the canon.
But then, provided that he himself were not obliged to use his brother's chalices, what could it matter?
The Cardinal did not know the artist, and whatever picture he might make to himself of the man would be shadowy and indistinct.

The feeling, then, was his own and quite personal.

It would be the height of superstitious folly to suppose that any evil principle could be attached to the silver and gold because they were chiselled by impious hands.

A simple matter this, but one which had many a time distressed Don Paolo.
There was a long pause after the priest's last words, during which the prelate looked at him from time to time, examined his own white hands, and turned his great ruby ring round his finger.
"Let us go to work," he said at length, as though dismissing the subject of the conversation from his mind.
Paolo fetched a large portfolio of papers and established himself at the writing-table, while the Cardinal examined the documents one by one, and dictated what he had to say about them to his secretary.

During two hours or more the two men remained steadily at their task.