“Fine poetry all this,” said Babbalanja, “but not so new.  Oft do they warble thus in bland Maramma!”

“It sounds famously, old man!” said Media, “but men are men.  Some must starve; some be scourged.—­Your doctrines are impracticable.”

“And are not these things enjoined by Alma?  And would Alma inculcate the impossible? of what merit, his precepts, unless they may be practiced?  But, I beseech ye, speak no more of Maramma.  Alas! did Alma revisit Mardi, think you, it would be among those Morals he would lay his head?”

“No, no,” said Babbalanja, “as an intruder he came; and an intruder would he be this day.  On all sides, would he jar our social systems.”

“Not here, not here!  Rather would we welcome Alma hungry and athirst, than though he came floating hither on the wings of seraphs; the blazing zodiac his diadem!  In all his aspects we adore him; needing no pomp and power to kindle worship.  Though he came from Oro; though he did miracles; though through him is life;—­not for these things alone, do we thus love him.  We love him from, an instinct in us;—­a fond, filial, reverential feeling.  And this would yet stir in our souls, were death our end; and Alma incapable of befriending us.  We love him because we do.”

“Is this man divine?” murmured Babbalanja.  “But thou speakest most earnestly of adoring Alma:—­I see no temples in your groves.”

“Because this isle is all one temple to his praise; every leaf is consecrated his.  We fix not Alma here and there; and say,—­’those groves for Him, and these broad fields for us.’  It is all his own; and we ourselves; our every hour of life; and all we are, and have.”

“Then, ye forever fast and pray; and stand and sing; as at long intervals the censer-bearers in Maramma supplicate their gods.”

“Alma forbid!  We never fast; our aspirations are our prayers; our lives are worship.  And when we laugh, with human joy at human things, —­then do we most sound great Oro’s praise, and prove the merit of sweet Alma’s love!  Our love in Alma makes us glad, not sad.  Ye speak of temples;—­behold! ’tis by not building them, that we widen charity among us.  The treasures which, in the islands round about, are lavished on a thousand fanes;—­with these we every day relieve the Master’s suffering disciples.  In Mardi, Alma preached in open fields, —­and must his worshipers have palaces?”

“No temples, then no priests;” said Babbalanja, “for few priests will enter where lordly arches form not the portal.”

“We have no priests, but one; and he is Alma’s self.  We have his precepts:  we seek no comments but our hearts.”

“But without priests and temples, how long will flourish this your faith?” said Media.

“For many ages has not this faith lived, in spite of priests and temples? and shall it not survive them?  What we believe, we hold divine; and things divine endure forever.”