too purely theoretical; some drifted into the poorhouses, first or
second grade; some were taken care of by charitable clergymen; there was
that attempt to concentrate in Dublin; but it failed, and people soon
forgot them. The buildings, as you know, were used for all kinds of
things. Oxford became an engineering establishment for a while, and
Cambridge a kind of Government laboratory. I was at King's College, you
know. Of course it was all as horrible as it could be--though I am glad
they kept the chapel open even as a museum. It was not nice to see the
chantries filled with anatomical specimens. However, I don't think it
was much worse than keeping stoves and surplices in them."

"What happened to you?"

"Oh! I was in Parliament very soon; and I had a little money of my own,
too. But it was very hard on some of them; they had little pensions, at
least all who were past work. And yet, I don't know: I suppose it had
to come. They were very little more than picturesque survivals, you
know; and had not even the grace of a religious faith about them."

Percy sighed again, looking at the humorously reminiscent face of the
old man. Then he suddenly changed the subject again.

"What about this European parliament?" he said.

The old man started.

"Oh!... I think it will pass," he said, "if a man can be found to push
it. All this last century has been leading up to it, as you see.
Patriotism has been dying fast; but it ought to have died, like slavery
and so forth, under the influence of the Catholic Church. As it is, the
work has been done without the Church; and the result is that the world
is beginning to range itself against us: it is an organised antagonism--
a kind of Catholic anti-Church. Democracy has done what the Divine
Monarchy should have done. If the proposal passes I think we may expect
something like persecution once more.... But, again, the Eastern
invasion may save us, if it comes off.... I do not know...."

Percy sat still yet a moment; then he stood up suddenly.

"I must go, sir," he said, relapsing into Esperanto. "It is past
nineteen o'clock. Thank you so much. Are you coming, father?"

Father Francis stood up also, in the dark grey suit permitted to
priests, and took up his hat.

"Well, father," said the old man again, "come again some day, if I
haven't been too discursive. I suppose you have to write your letter
yet?"

Percy nodded.

"I did half of it this morning," he said, "but I felt I