The Archbishop moved uneasily in his chair.  His habitual violent spirit of contradiction rose up rebelliously in him, and he longed to give a sharp answer in confutation of the Cardinal’s words, but there was a touch of the sycophant in his nature despite his personal pride, and he could not but reflect that Cardinals ranked above Archbishops, and that Felix Bonpre was in very truth a “prince of the Church” however much he himself elected to disclaim the title.  And as in secular affairs lesser men will always bow the knee to royalty, so the Archbishop felt the necessity of temporising with one who was spiritually royal.  Therefore he considered a moment before replying.

“I think,” he said at last, in soft persuasive tones, “that your conscience may perhaps be a little tender on this subject.  But I cannot agree with you in your supposition that whole flocks are starving;—­for Christianity dominates the better and more intellectual part of the civilized world, and through its doctrines, men are gradually learning to be more tolerant and less unjust.  When we recollect the barbarous condition of humanity before the coming of Christ—­”

“Barbarous?” interrupted the Cardinal with half a smile,—­“You would hardly apply that term to the luxury-loving peoples of Tyre and Babylon?—­or to the ancient splendours of Athens and Rome?”

“They were heathens,” said the Archbishop sententiously.

“But they were men and women,” replied Bonpre, “And they too had immortal souls.  They were all more or less struggling towards the fundamental Idea of good.  Of course then, as now that Idea was overgrown by superstitious myths and observances—­but the working tendency of the whole universe being ever towards Good, not Evil, an impulse to press on in the right direction was always in the brain of man, no matter how dimly felt.  Primitive notions of honour were strange indeed; nevertheless honour existed in the minds of the early barbarians in a vague sense, though distorted out of shape and noblest meaning.  No,—­we dare not take upon ourselves to assert that men were altogether barbarous before the coming of Christ.  They were cruel and unjust certainly,—­and alas! they are cruel and unjust still!  Eighteen hundred years of Christian teaching have not eradicated these ingrained sins from any one unit of the entire mass.”

“You are a severe judge!” said the Archbishop.

Cardinal Bonpre lifted his mild blue eyes protestingly.

“Severe?  I?  God forbid that I should be severe, or presume to sit in judgment on any poor soul that sought my sympathy!  I do not judge,—­ I simply feel.  And my feelings have for a long time, I confess, been poignantly sorrowful.”

“Sorrowful!  And why?”