“Your Eminence has heard all this,” he said coldly, addressing the Cardinal who sat rigidly in his chair, silent and very pale.

“I have,” replied Bonpre in a low strained tone.

“And I presume your Eminence permits—?”

“Why talk of permission?” interrupted the Cardinal, raising his eyes with a sorrowful look, “Who is to permit or deny freedom of speech in these days?  Have I—­have you—­the right to declare that a man shall not express his thoughts?  In what way are we to act?  Deny a hearing?  We cannot—­we dare not—­not if we obey our Lord, who says, ’Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them.’  If we ask for ourselves to be heard, we must also hear.”

“We may hear—­but in such a case as the present one must we not also condemn?” demanded Moretti, watching the venerable prelate narrowly.

“We can only condemn in the case of a great sin,” replied Bonpre gently, “and even then our condemnation must be passed with fear and trembling, and with full knowledge of all the facts pertaining to the error.  ‘Judge not that ye be not judged.’  We are told plainly that our brother may sin against us not only seven times but seventy times seven, and still we are bound to forgive, to sustain, to help, and not to trample down the already fallen.”

“These are your Eminence’s opinions?” said Moretti.

“Most assuredly!  Are they not yours?”

Moretti smiled coldly.

“No.  I confess they are not!  I am a faithful servant of the Church; and the Church is a system of moral government in which, if the slightest laxity be permitted, the whole fabric is in danger—­”

“A house of cards then, which a breath may blow down!” interposed “Gys Grandit,” otherwise Cyrillon Vergniaud, “Surely an unstable foundation for the everlasting ethics of Christ!”

“I did not speak to you, sir,” said Moretti, turning upon him angrily.

“I know you did not.  I spoke to you,” answered the young man coolly, “I have as much right to speak to you, as you have to speak to me, or to be silent—­if you choose.  You say the Church is a system of moral government.  Well, look back on the past, and see what it has done in the way of governing.  In the very earliest days of Christianity, when men were simple and sincere, when their faith in the power of the Divine things was strong and pure, the Church was indeed a safeguard, and a powerful restraint on man’s uneducated licentiousness and inherent love of strife.  But when the lust of gain began to creep like a fever into the blood of those with whom worldly riches should be as nothing compared to the riches of the mind, the heart, and the spirit, then the dryrot of hypocrisy set in—­then came craftiness, cruelty, injustice, and pitilessness, and such grossness of personal conduct as revolts even the soul of an admitted sinner.  Moral government?  Where is it to day?  Look at France—­Italy—­Spain!  Count up the lies told by the priests in these countries to feed the follies of the ignorant!  Did Christ ever tell lies?  No.  Then why, if you are His follower, do you tell them?”