Phaulcon swore a mighty oath in his teeth as his

lips shook, and his face flushed purple.

"If he harm her, I will find my way into his palace and drive a dagger down his throat, though he stand at the altar itself!"

"Carissimo! what would that avail, except to have you hanged, or disposed of in a still less humane fashion? Be reasonable. Tragedy will avail nothing. If you killed Villaflor, there would remain a score of monsignori to take his place and play his cards. The arrest of Madame de Vassalis is a terrible stroke for us—we could better have afforded to lose fifty men than to lose your irresistible Idalia; at the same time we shall not better her, and we shall surely imperil ourselves and all our projects, if we go like men in a melodrama, slaying priests and calling on the gods for vengeance."

"What! You would have us stand calmly by in inaction while she may be—may be——" The words choked him; he knew what the power of Giulio Villaflor meant to all, meant above all to a woman.

"Inaction! What action can you suggest?"

The Greek was silent; his swift thoughts swept, far over a thousand schemes that rose only to bear with them the sentence of impossibility.