“Why?”

“Because in the very beholding of things we remain blind!” answered the Cardinal, “Our intense selfishness obscures the true light of every fresh advance.  We accept new marvels of knowledge, as so much practical use to us, and to the little planet we live on,—­but we do not see that they are merely reflections of the Truth from which they emanate.  The toy called the biograph, which reflects pictures for us in a dazzling and moving continuity, so that we can see scenes of human life in action, is merely a hint to us that every scene of every life is reflected in a ceaseless moving panorama somewhere in the Universe, for the beholding of someone,—­yes!—­ there must be Someone who so elects to look upon everything, or such possibilities of reflected scenes would not be,—­inasmuch as nothing exists without a Cause for existence.  The wireless telegraphy is a stupendous warning of the truth that ‘from God no secrets are hid’, and also of the prophecy of Christ ’there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed’—­and, ’whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be revealed in light.’  The latter words are almost appalling in their absolute accord with the latest triumphant discoveries of science.”

Abbe Vergniaud looked at the Cardinal, and slightly raised his eyebrows in a kind of wondering protest.

“TRES-saint Felix!” he murmured, “Are you turning into a mystic?  One of those doubtful personages who are seeking to reconcile science with the Church?—­”

“Stop!” interposed the Cardinal, raising his hand with an eloquent gesture, “Science is, or should be, the Church!—­science is Truth, and Truth is God!  God cannot be found anywhere in a lie; and the Church in many ways would make our Divine Redeemer Himself a lie were it not that His words are every day taking fresh meaning, and bringing new and solemn conviction to those who have eyes to see and ears to hear!”

He spoke as if carried beyond himself,—­his pale cheeks glowed,—­his eyes flashed fire,—­and the combined effect of his words and manner was startling to the Abbe, and in a way stupefying to his niece Angela.  She had never heard him give utterance to such strong sentiments and she shrank a little within herself, wondering whether as a Cardinal of the Roman Church he had not been too free of speech.  She glanced apprehensively at Vergniaud, who however only smiled a little.

“If you should be disposed to express yourself in such terms at the Vatican,—­” he began.

The Cardinal relapsed into his usual calm, and met the Abbe’s questioning, half cynical glance composedly.  “I have many things to speak of at the Vatican,” he answered,—­“This matter will probably be one of them.”

“Then—­” But whatever Vergniaud was about to say was interrupted by the entrance of the boy Manuel, who at that moment came into the room and stood beside the Cardinal’s chair.  The Abbe gave him an upward glance of surprise and admiration.