“Pope Leo XIII,” said Mr. Cunningham, “was one of the lights of the age.  His great idea, you know, was the union of the Latin and Greek Churches.  That was the aim of his life.”

“I often heard he was one of the most intellectual men in Europe,” said Mr. Power.  “I mean, apart from his being Pope.”

“So he was,” said Mr. Cunningham, “if not the most so.  His motto, you know, as Pope, was Lux upon Lux—­Light upon Light.”

“No, no,” said Mr. Fogarty eagerly.  “I think you’re wrong there.  It was Lux in Tenebris, I think—­Light in Darkness.”

“O yes,” said Mr. M’Coy, “Tenebrae.”

“Allow me,” said Mr. Cunningham positively, “it was Lux upon Lux.  And Pius IX his predecessor’s motto was Crux upon Crux—­ that is, Cross upon Cross—­to show the difference between their two pontificates.”

The inference was allowed.  Mr. Cunningham continued.

“Pope Leo, you know, was a great scholar and a poet.”

“He had a strong face,” said Mr. Kernan.

“Yes,” said Mr. Cunningham.  “He wrote Latin poetry.”

“Is that so?” said Mr. Fogarty.

Mr. M’Coy tasted his whisky contentedly and shook his head with a double intention, saying: 

“That’s no joke, I can tell you.”

“We didn’t learn that, Tom,” said Mr. Power, following Mr. M’Coy’s example, “when we went to the penny-a-week school.”

“There was many a good man went to the penny-a-week school with a sod of turf under his oxter,” said Mr. Kernan sententiously.  “The old system was the best:  plain honest education.  None of your modern trumpery....”

“Quite right,” said Mr. Power.

“No superfluities,” said Mr. Fogarty.

He enunciated the word and then drank gravely.

“I remember reading,” said Mr. Cunningham, “that one of Pope Leo’s poems was on the invention of the photograph—­in Latin, of course.”

“On the photograph!” exclaimed Mr. Kernan.

“Yes,” said Mr. Cunningham.

He also drank from his glass.

“Well, you know,” said Mr. M’Coy, “isn’t the photograph wonderful when you come to think of it?”

“O, of course,” said Mr. Power, “great minds can see things.”

“As the poet says:  Great minds are very near to madness,” said Mr. Fogarty.

Mr. Kernan seemed to be troubled in mind.  He made an effort to recall the Protestant theology on some thorny points and in the end addressed Mr. Cunningham.

“Tell me, Martin,” he said.  “Weren’t some of the popes—­of course, not our present man, or his predecessor, but some of the old popes—­not exactly ... you know... up to the knocker?”

There was a silence.  Mr. Cunningham said

“O, of course, there were some bad lots...  But the astonishing thing is this.  Not one of them, not the biggest drunkard, not the most... out-and-out ruffian, not one of them ever preached ex cathedra a word of false doctrine.  Now isn’t that an astonishing thing?”