The Turquoise Cup, and, The Desert | Page 6

cried Lady Nora. "Fancy Bobby with a dark lantern, a
bristly beard, and a red handkerchief about his neck. All burglars are
like that, you know; and then fancy him creeping up the aisle with his
Johnnie--no, his jimmy--and his felt slippers--fancy Bobby in felt
slippers--and he reaches the treasury door, and just then the moon
comes up and shines through that window and illuminates the key in St.
Peter's hand, and Bobby says, 'An omen,' and he takes out his own
key-ring and the first one he tries fits the lock and the door flies open,
and Bobby lifts the cup, locks the door, goes down to the steps by the
Doge's palace--no gondola--too late, you know, so he puts the cup in
his teeth, takes a header, and swims to the yacht. When he comes
alongside they hail him, and he comes up the ladder. 'Where's your
mistress?' he asks, and they call me, and I come on deck in my pink
_saut du lit_, and there stands Bobby, the water running off him and the
cup in his teeth. 'There's your bauble,' he says. (Of course he takes the
cup out of his mouth when he speaks.) 'And here's your Nora,' I say,
and the boatswain pipes all hands aft to witness the marriage ceremony.
No, no, your eminence," she laughed, "it's too good to be true. Bobby
will never steal the cup. He has never done anything in all his life but
walk down Bond Street. He's a love, but he is not energetic."

"You are doubtless right," said the cardinal, "and my fears are but the
timidity of age; still--"
The earl joined them. He had just given the sacristan ten pounds, and
had endeavored to treat the gift as a disinterested pourboire. He felt that
he had failed; that he had overdone it, and had made himself a marked
man. The sacristan followed him--voluble, eulogistic.
"Tommaso," said the cardinal, "this is the Earl of Vauxhall. He is to
have every privilege, every liberty. He is to be left alone if he desires it.
He is not to be bothered with attendance or suggestions. He may use a
kodak; he may handle anything in the treasury. You will regard him as
though he were myself."
Tommaso bowed low. The earl blushed.
Lady Nora looked at her watch.
"Five o'clock!" she exclaimed, "and Aunt Molly will be wanting her tea.
The launch is at the stairs. Will you come, Bobby? And you, your
eminence, will you honor me?"
"Not to-day, my lady," replied the cardinal, "but perhaps some other."
"To-morrow?" she asked.
"Yes," said the cardinal.
"Thank you," said Lady Nora; "the launch will be at the landing at
half-past four."
"Is it an electrical contrivance?" asked the cardinal, with a smile.
"Yes," replied Lady Nora.
"Then," said the cardinal, "you need not send it. I will come in my
barca. Electricity and the Church are not friendly. We have only just
become reconciled to steam."
Lady Nora laughed. "Good-by," she said, "until to-morrow," and again
she made her courtesy.
"Until to-morrow," said the cardinal; and he watched them down the
aisle.
"Tommaso," he said to the sacristan, "give me the turquoise cup."
Tommaso handed it to him, silent but wondering.
"Now lock the door," said the cardinal, "and give me the key."
Tommaso complied. The cardinal put the cup under his robe and started
down the aisle.
"Tommaso," he said, "you are now closed for the annual cleaning. You
understand, do you not?"

"Perfectly, your eminence," replied Tommaso, and then he
added--"When a stranger gives me two hundred and fifty lire it is time
to lock my door."
The cardinal went out of the church, the turquoise cup under his
cassock. He crossed the Piazza slowly, for he was both limping and
thinking. He came to the shop of Testolini, the jeweller, under the
North arcade, paused a moment, and entered. The clerks behind the
counters sprang to their feet and bowed low.
"Signor Testolini?" asked the cardinal; "is he within?"
"Yes, your eminence," said the head clerk. "He is in his bureau. I will
summon him."
"No," said the cardinal, "if he is alone I will go in," and he opened the
door at the back of the shop and closed it behind him. In ten minutes he
came out again. Signor Testolini followed, rubbing his hands and
bowing at each step.
"Perfectly, your eminence," he said. "I quite understand."
"It must be in my hands in ten days," said the cardinal.
"Ten days!" exclaimed Testolini; "impossible."
"What is that strange word?" said the cardinal; "it must be a vulgarism
of New Italy, that 'impossible.' I do not like it and I will thank you not
to use it again when speaking to me. In ten