isciplined soldier of the Church would have erred in the opposite
direction. The ear which listens only for the voice of authority becomes
obtuse to the cry of suffering. The spirit which only moves to command
becomes unfit for spontaneous work. Caponsacchi, standing aloof like a
man of pleasure, has proved himself the very champion of God, ready to
spring into the arena, at the first thud of the false knight's glove
upon the ground. He has shown himself possessed of the true courage
which does not shrink from temptation, and does not succumb to it. Such
transgressions as his reflect rather on the limits imposed than on the
impatience which transgressed them. He must submit to a slight
punishment. He must work--be unhappy--bear life. But he ranks next in
grace to Pompilia--the "rose" which the old Pope "gathers for the breast
of God." Of Count Guido's other victims, Pietro and Violante, the worst
that can be said is this: they have halted between good and evil; and,
as the way of the world is, suffered through both. The balance of
justice once more confirms the Pope's decree.

Yet at this very moment his will relaxes. A sudden dread is upon him--a
chill such as comes with the sudden clouding of a long clear sky. The
ordeal of a deeper and stranger doubt is yet to be faced. He has judged,
as he believed, by the light of Divine truth. Has he been mistaken?

Step by step he tests and reconstructs his belief, tracing it back to
its beginning. God, the Infinite, exists. Man, the atom, comprehends him
as the conditions of his intelligence permit, but so far truly. Man's
mind, like a convex glass, reflects him, in an image, smaller or less
small, adequate so far as it goes. As revealed in the order of nature,
God is perfect in intelligence and in power; but not so in love; and
there has come into the mouths and hearts of men, a tale and miracle of
Divine love which makes the evidence of his perfection complete. The
Pope believes that tale, whether true in itself, or like man's
conception of the infinite, true only for the human mind. He accepts its
enigmas as a test of faith: as a sign that life is meant for a training
and a passage: as a guarantee of our moral growth, and of the good which
evil may produce.

Christianity stands firm. And yet his heart misgives him; for it is not
justified by its results. It is not that the sceptical deny its value:
that those bent on earthly good reject it with open eyes. The surprise
and t