The newcomer was a sleek, well-oiled gentleman, sprucely dressed in a tight-fitting suit of mouse color, with only a quill pen behind an ear to show that he called himself a professional scholar. He was full of fine phrases for us, and laudations of the picture, which last were obviously perfunctory, for it soon appeared, to the vast disgust of Primati, that he had come not to admire the painting but to submit to Forli about forty new lines of his half-finished epic, “The Virgin Birth,” and to crave the cardinal’s wisdom upon certain doubtful quantities and Latinisms, a judgment in which he politely invited Rocca and myself to join; and Forli, pleased to show the same mastery of one art as of another, made haste to run over the hexameters, bestowing a profusion of compliments, intermixed with tactful criticism. “The introduction of the cattle in the stable at Bethlehem,--charming and natural. But _bos_--a crude and grating word--is scarcely used in this sense by Seneca or Cicero. Again you speak of ‘Our Lord coming for the remission of our sins.’ Excellent, thrice excellent were we mere theologians, but a poet with such an exalted theme might with more dignity say ‘Apollo come to bear the divine pity of the Manes.’ Happier, is that not? And more genuinely classical and Latin? But the next two lines--how delicately you throw the accent upon this _venisset_. Yet I cannot approve this ‘Virgo Maria’; ‘Virgo Diana’ is the only proper term, as I observed before; I crave your opinion in this, my dear conte, your Latinity is impeccable.” “I agree with you, Eminenza,” I assented, “although in view of the theme, some slight concession might be made in the nomenclature.” “Consistency, consistency,” urged the senior cardinal. “Signor Sanazzaro is not writing for ignorant monks, but for men of true learning and _virtù_. You will find all the best authorities on my side,--Bembo, Pomponazzo, Politiano, Pontano, and many more. Purge away these small blemishes, my noble friend, and who dare not hope that the ‘Virgin Birth’ may not enjoy the immortality of the ‘Æneid’?” “The Eminenza’s praise is overpowering,” smiled the poet, receiving back the paper with a profound reverence; “but I fear I have intruded upon some grave conversation. I invoke the blessings of Olympus upon your excellencies, and crave leave to depart.” With which he bowed himself away. Rocca, mindful of his own appointment, was clearly glad to have him gone, nor did I wish to detain him. Primati had already quitted us, and as the poet’s smart mantle disappeared down the gallery, Rocca at once broke in with, “Now let us resume the former discussion.” “About ‘the Crucifixion’?” I asked. “About the assassination,” corrected Forli, smiling gently, and beckoning us back to his chamber. I suspect the others had already noticed my reluctant manner, for by the time the door was closed behind us Rocca had me by the arm and was demanding: “Wherefore do you look so sour?”