they say, who named pure gods the gods they knew not the nature of."

Then the good Fra Giovanni sighed and said:

"Sir! your words are dark and wrapped in sadness. At times in my sleep
angels have visited me. Their words I could not comprehend; but the
mystery of _their_ thought was full of joy."

Hereupon the subtle visitor resumed:

"Come, Fra Giovanni, let us argue it out both of us according to the
rules of syllogism."

But the holy man answered:

"Nay! I cannot argue with you; I have neither wish nor wit for the
task."

"Well then!" returned the Subtle Sophist, "I must needs find another
Opponent."

And in a moment, lifting the index finger of his left hand, he made with
his right out of a corner of his gown a red cap for this finger. Then
holding it up before his nose,

"Look!" he said, "look at this finger. He's a learned Doctor now, and I
am going to hold a learned argument with him. He's a Platonist, maybe
Plato himself.

"Messer Plato, what is purity? I wait your answer, Messer Plato. Oh! you