“It would have been a pleasure and an honour to me to welcome you at my house”—­he said—­“Really, it is quite a violation of custom and usage that you should be in this wretched place; the accommodation is not at all fitted for a prince of the Church.”

Cardinal Felix raised one hand in gentle yet pained protest.

“Pardon me!” he said, “I do not like that term, ’prince of the Church.’  There are no princes in the Church—­or if there are, there should be none.”

The archbishop opened his eyes widely.

“That is a strange remark!” he ejaculated—­“Princes of the Church there have always been since Cardinals were created; and you, being a Cardinal and an Archbishop as well, cannot be otherwise than one of them.”

Felix Bonpre sighed.

“Still, I maintain that the term is a wrong one,” he answered, “and used in the wrong place.  The Church has nothing, or should have nothing to do with differing titles or places.  The ordinary priest who toils among his congregation day and night, scarcely resting himself, working and praying for the spiritual welfare of others, should to my thinking be as greatly held in honour as the bishop who commands him and who often—­so it chances—­is able to do less for our Lord than he.  In things temporal, owing to the constant injustice of man practised against his brother-man, we can seldom attain to strict impartiality of judgment,—­but in things spiritual, there surely should be perfect equality.”

“Seriously speaking, are those your views?” enquired the Archbishop, his features expressing more and more astonishment.

“Assuredly!” responded the Cardinal gently,—­“Are they not yours?  Did not the Master Himself say ’Whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant’?  And ’Whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased’?  These statements are plain and true,—­there is no mistaking them.”

The Archbishop was silent for a minute or so.

“Unfortunately we cannot apply our Lord’s words literally to every-day exigencies,” he murmured suavely—­“If we could do so—­”

“We should do so,” said the Cardinal with emphasis—­“The outside world may be disinclined to do so,—­but we—­we who are the representatives of a God-given faith, are solemnly bound to do so.  And I fear—­I very much fear—­that it is because in many cases we have not shown the example expected of us, that heresy and atheism are so common among the people of the present day.”

“Are you a would-be reformer?” asked the Archbishop good-humouredly, yet not without a touch of satire in his tone,—­“If so, you are not alone—­there have already been many!”

“Nay, I desire no reforms,” responded the Cardinal, a faint flush warming the habitual pallor of his cheeks—­“I simply wish to maintain—­not alter—­the doctrine of our Lord.  No reform is necessary in that,—­it is clear, concise, and simple enough for a child to understand.  His command to His disciples was,—­’Feed my sheep’—­and I have of late been troubled and perplexed, because it seems to me that the sheep are not fed;—­that despite churches and teachers and preachers, whole flocks are starving.”