Don Paolo, all on fire, wished to protest, but Professor Dane signed to
him to be calm.

"We do not intend to forego logic," said he, "but it is not as easy to
measure the logical value of a conclusion in questions of sentiment, of
love of faith, as it is to measure the logical value of a conclusion in
geometrical problems. In the questions which interest us the logical
process is hidden. Surely my dear friend Marinier, one of the most
acute-minded men I know, when he answered my dear friend Selva, did not
intend to imply that when a person very dear to us falls ill, it is
necessary for us to decide what method of treatment to adopt before
hastening to his bedside together."

"These are very fine figures," said the Abbe Marinier with vehemence;
"but you are all aware that similes are not arguments!"

Don Clemente, standing in the corner between the door leading into the
corridor and the window, and Professor Minucci, seated near him, began
to speak at the same moment, but both stopped short; each wishing to
allow the other to speak first. Selva proposed that the monk be heard
first. All eyes were fixed on that noble face, the face of an archangel:
Don Clemente's colour deepened, but he held his head erect. After a
moment of hesitation he spoke in his soft, modest voice. "The Abbe
Marinier made an observation which seemed to me very just. He said that
we need a saint. I also believe this, I do not despair of finding one,
for perhaps, even now, he exists. Who knows?"

"Himself," murmured Don Paolo,

"Now," Don Clemente went on, "I wish the Abbe Marinier to understand