the Cardinal stood, one hand outstretched,--his whole frame sentient
with the strong emotion which possessed him.

"You know that what I say is true," he continued in quieter but no
less intensely passionate accents--"You know that every day sees our
Master crowned with new thorns and exposed to fresh torture! You
know that we do nothing!--We stand beside Him in His second agony as
dumb as though we were unconscious of it! You know that we MIGHT
speak and will not! You know that we fear the ephemera of temporary
governments, policies, and social conventionalities, more than the
great, real, and terrible judgment of the world to come!"

"But all these things have been said before," began the Archbishop,
recovering a little from the confusion that had momentarily seized
him,--"And as I just now observed, you should remember that there
have always been heretics from the very beginning."

"Oh, I remember!" and the Cardinal sighed, "How is it possible that
any of us should forget! Heretics, whom we have tortured with
unheard-of agonies and burned in the flames, as a proof of our love
and sympathy with the tenderness of Christ Jesus!"

"You are going too far back in time!" said the Archbishop quickly.
"We erred in the beginning through excess of zeal, but now--now--"

"Now we do exactly the same thing," returned Bonpre--"Only we do not
burn physically our heretics, but morally. We condemn all who oppose
us. Good men and brave thinkers, whom in our arrogance we consign to
eternal damnation, instead of endeavouring to draw out the heart of
their mystery, and gather up the gems of their learning as fresh