"Such unfortunate disruptions and the personalities of the Popes themselves have no bearing on the matter. It is the unbroken teaching of the Church which counts. That enshrines the tradition of near two thousand years, and all the interpretations of the sayings of our Lord by the truly pious early Fathers remain unaltered within it."
"As a Protestant, I would maintain that the interpretation arrived at by the great Divines, who led the Reformation, have as much right to be considered valid as those made by monks and missionaries living in the third and fourth centuries of our era."
Isabella turned to smile at him. "Then 'tis fruitless for us to argue the matter. But this much I will admit. From what I have heard I believe the majority of your pastors do lead holier lives than those of our priests. And I cannot think that the way to Heaven lies only in the slavish observance of ritual; for Christ could not be so unmerciful as to reject any who follow His teaching according to their honest convictions."
As they drove back to their hotel Roger wondered what other surprises Isabella might have in store for him. Of the many French Catholics he had met the great majority had either taken their religion lightly and so much as a matter of course as scarcely to think about it, or had been secretly Freethinkers. Isabella's obvious faith coupled with broadmindedness was an entirely new brand of Catholicism to him, but the basis of it was clearly derived from her strong-minded father's contempt for a decadent priesthood.
On reaching the Crillon they found other matters to concern them. In their absence the Senora had become markedly worse. She was now feverish and complained of severe pains in her stomach. A doctor was sent for, who prescribed the almost universal remedy of the times and proceeded to bleed her. He was an elderly man and seemed sensible and competent, so when he was about to depart Roger waylaid him and raised the question of his foot.
The chirurgeon in Nevers had said that it should be kept in plaster for from two to three weeks, and now that a fortnight had elapsed Roger was anxious to get free of the heavy encumbrance that prevented him from walking. Moreover, he knew that even after the plaster had been removed it would take him a few days to regain the full use of his leg, and they were now only that distance by coach from Marseilles, where he would have to part from Isabella and look after himself on his voyage to Leghorn.
The doctor agreed to do the job there and then, so a small hammer was sent for and the plaster broken away. It was then found that Roger's healthy flesh had healed perfectly; but when he put his foot to the ground he could not stand on it, so he had to be assisted as usual to the table for supper.
As the next day was again a Sunday they had already planned to allow time for church, then to set off at eleven o'clock for Orgon; but before they retired that night Roger gave it as his opinion that the Senora would not be well enough to travel again till the Monday.
However, on the Sunday morning she seemed much better. She declared that the weakness she still felt was due only to the doctor having bled her the previous evening, and, although they urged her not to, she insisted on getting up to attend Mass.
Every day during the past week Roger and Isabella had succeeded in snatching a few brief, blissful interludes alone together, but they had been looking forward to a full, uninterrupted hour on this Sunday morning with a longing by no means untinged with disturbing thoughts. Neither had again referred to the all too short duration that an arbitrary Fate seemed to have set upon their love-making, but both were very conscious that the hour of their parting was now imminent, and that the Senora's attendance at church might provide their last opportunity of any length to give free vent to their feelings for one another.
Yet, in the circumstances, Isabella felt she could hardly again pretend an indisposition, as she had planned to do; since her duenna was still so obviously not fully recovered it would have been callous in the extreme not to accompany her. Therefore, reluctant as she was to do so, she got ready for church with the others, and after giving Roger a glance conveying her disappointment went off with them, leaving him to practise hobbling about on his game leg.
It was as well she did so, as half-way through the service the Senora was first overcome by a fainting fit, then, on their getting her outside, was taken with a violent vomiting. As soon as they got her back to the hotel she was put to bed and the doctor sent for again. He said he thought that she was suffering from some form of food poisoning and gave her an emetic, after which he bled her again, both of which processes weakened her still further.
That afternoon she became delirous and when the doctor called in the evening he could only shake his head. He told them that the emetic and bleeding should have purged the ill-humours from her system, so everything now depended on the strength of her constitution. In view of the soundness of her vital organs he thought her condition far from desperate but could give no further opinion until it was seen how she got through the night.
Isabella was terribly distressed and declared her intention of sitting up all night with her old gouvanante. Both Roger and Maria pressed her to let them take turns at watching by the sick woman, but she would not hear of it and insisted on their going to bed.
For a long time the delirious mutterings from the far end of the big room kept Roger awake, and even after they had ceased he found himself unable to do more than doze; so when Isabella tiptoed over to him at about two o'clock in the morning he was instantly wide awake. Stooping over him, she whispered:
"My love; she has just woken and is fully conscious. Her fever seems to have abated and I think she is much better. But she has expressed a wish to speak to you, and alone. I pray you go to her while I wait out on the landing. Restrain her from talking as far as you can, dear one, for 'tis of the utmost importance that she should conserve her strength."
With a whispered word of endearment Roger got up, pulled on his robe de chambre and as Isabella left the room, limped over to the Senora's bed.
At the sight of him the old lady's eyes brightened perceptibly, and she began to speak slowly in Spanish. Knowing how little he as yet understood of that language she used simple phrases, choosing her words with great care, and where she found difficulty in expressing herself simply she here and there substituted a word or two of Church Latin.
"Senor Rojé"she began. "I am nearly seventy. I am very ill. Perhaps my time has come. Perhaps the Holy Virgin is calling me. Tomorrow I may not be able to speak to you."
With a feeble gesture she waved aside his protest and went on: "You love the Senorita Isabella. I know it. She loves you. It is a fire that burns in both. Without me she will be defenceless. She is very headstrong. If you lift your finger she will give all. Then she will wish to remain with you. But soon she will have bitter regret. Her whole life ruined. I beg you not to tempt her. To reject her even. Then her pride will make her leave you and go on to Naples. I beg you save her from herself, and let her go."
Roger had failed to grasp a word here and there, but he understood her meaning perfectly. It had not previously even occurred to him that if the Senora died, Isabella, finding herself free from restraint, might refuse to go through with her projected marriage. Staring down at the big, once-handsome face on die rumpled pillows, that now, in the candle-light, appeared a frightening mask, he nodded assent.
The old duenna gathered her remaining strength and whispered: "You must be strong for both. You will not bring shame and regret upon her. I know you will not. If you are cold towards her the fire she feels for you will in time die down. Promise me .. . Promise me that you will not make the Senorita Isabella your mistress."