ked him the precise meaning of _adoro_.

"It means, in its original, to speak to or accost any one," said the
priest; "but being now taken into the holy service of religion, it
signifies to pray, to supplicate; and, thence derived--to worship, to
bow one's self down."

"And,--if I do not trouble you too much, Father,--would you please to
tell me the difference between _adoro_ and _colo_?"

Father Nicholas was a born philologist, though in his day there was no
appellation for the science. To be asked any question involving a
derivation or comparison of words, was to him as a trumpet to a
war-horse.

"My daughter, it is pleasure, not trouble, to me, to answer such
questions as these. _Colo_ is a word which comes from the Greek, but is
now obsolete in that tongue, wherein it seems to have had the meaning of
feed or tend. Transferred to the Latin, it signifies to cultivate,
exercise, practise, or cherish,--say rather, in any sense, to take pains
about a thing: hence, used in the blessed service of religion, it is to
regard, venerate, respect, or worship. Therefore _cultus_, which is the
noun of this verb, signifies, when referred to things inanimate, tending
or cultivation to things animate, education, culture; to God and the
holy saints, reverence and worship. Dost thou now understand, my
daughter?"

"I thank you very much, Father," said Doucebelle, quietly; "I understand
now."

When she was alone, she put her information together, and thought it
carefully over.

"_Non adorabis ea, neque coles_."

Images, then, were not to be reverenced, either in heart or by bodily
gesture. So said the version of Scripture made by Saint Jerome, and
used and authorised by the Church. But how was it that the Church
allowed these things to be done? Did she not know that Scripture
forbade them? Or was she above all Scripture? Practically, it looked
like it.

Yet how was it, if the Church were the mouthpiece of God, that the
commands issued by the One were diametrically at variance with the
recommendations given by the other? If God did not change,--if the
Church did not change,--when had they been in accord, and how came they
to differ?

Doucebelle had now reached a point where she could neither turn round
nor go further. The more she cogitated on her problem, the more
insoluble it appeared to her. Yet her instinctive feeling told her that
to refer it to Father Nicholas would be of no service. He was one of
the be