The Saint Part 6

"Yes," answered Selva quietly; "we will discuss it again to-night."

He felt he had found an adversary in this abbe, and he thought Dane had committed an error both of judgment and of tact in inviting him to the meeting. At the same time he comforted himself with the tacit reflection that it would be an advantage to hear all possible objections set forth; and that a friend of Professor Dane was, at least, sure to be trustworthy, and would not divulge names and speeches it were better to keep secret for the present. Young di Leyn, on the other hand, was very apprehensive of this danger knowing how many and how various were the Abbe Marinier's acquaintances in Rome, where he had lived for five years, pursuing certain historical studies; and he was also annoyed at not having known of his coming in time to write to Selva, suggesting the advisability of seeking to propitiate him, beginning through his palate.

The table at the Selvas', always exquisitely neat, and decorated with flowers, was most frugal, and very simple as regards food. The Selvas never drank wine, and the pale, acid wine of Subiaco could only have a souring effect on a man accustomed to French vintages. The girl from Affile had already served the coffee, when, at the same moment, Don Clemente arrived on foot from Santa Scolastica, and Dane, Professor Salvati, and Professor Minucci, in a two-horse carriage, from Subiaco.

But Don Clemente, who was followed by his gardener, seeing the carriage approaching the gate of the villa, and understanding that it brought guests for the Selvas, hastened his steps, that Giovanni might see the gardener and speak with him a few moments before the meeting.

The Selvas and their three companions had risen from the table, and Maria, coming out to the terrace on the arm of the gallant Abbe Marinier, saw, in spite of the growing darkness, the Benedictine on the steep path leading up from the gate which opened upon the public road.

She greeted him from above, and begged him to wait for a light at the foot of the stairs. She herself descended the winding stairs with the light, and signed to Don Clemente that she wished to speak to him, casting a significant glance in the direction of the man standing behind him. Don Clemente turned, and requested him to wait outside under the acacias. Then, having ascended a few steps at the lady's silent invitation, he stopped to listen to what she had to tell him.

She spoke hastily of her three guests, particularly of the Abbe Marinier, saying she was much annoyed on account of her husband, who had such faith in this cherished idea of a Catholic a.s.sociation, and who would now find himself confronted with an unexpected opposition. She wished Don Clemente to know this that he might be prepared. She herself had come to explain to him, because her husband could not leave his guests at that moment. At the same time she would say good-night to Don Clemente, as she did not intend to be present at the meeting, being a woman and so ignorant. Perhaps she should meet him at the monastery in a few days. Was not he the Padre who received visitors? She would probably be going to Santa Scolastica in three or four days, with her sister--

At this point Signora Selva involuntarily raised the light to observe her companion's face more narrowly, but she at once repented of the action, as if she had failed in respect towards that soul which was surely holy, surely in harmony with the manly and virginal beauty of the tall slender person, with the head habitually held erect, in a pose almost military in its frank modesty; with the face so n.o.ble in its s.p.a.cious forehead, in its clear blue eyes, expressing at the same time womanly sweetness and manly fire.

"There will also be an intimate friend of my sister's, a certain Signora Dessalle," she added, in a low voice, as if ashamed.

Don Clemente turned his head away, starting violently, and Maria, feeling the counter-shock, trembled. Then it was he? He at once turned towards her again, his face slightly flushed, but composed.

"Pardon me," said he, "what is the lady's name?"

"Whose, Signora Dessalle's?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Jeanne."

"About what age is she?"

"I do not know. I should say from thirty to thirty-five."

Maria was now completely at a loss to understand. The Padre put these questions with such indifference, such calmness! She herself risked a question.

"Do you know her, Padre?"

Don Clemente made no answer. At this point poor, gouty Dane arrived, having dragged himself up from the gate with great difficulty, leaning on Professor Minucci's arm. They were both intimate friends, and Signora Selva welcomed them kindly, but in a somewhat absent manner.

The meeting was held in Giovanni's little study. It was very small and as--out of regard for Dane and his rheums--the windows could not be opened, the fiery Don Fare felt he should stifle, and said as much, in his outspoken Lombard fas.h.i.+on. The others pretended not to have heard, except Leyn who signed to him not to insist, and Giovanni, who opened the door leading to the corridor, and the one beyond opening upon the terrace. Dane at once perceived an odour of damp woods, and the doors had to be closed again. An old petroleum lamp was burning on the writing-desk. Professor Minucci, who had weak eyes, asked timidly for a shade; which was looked for, found, and put in place. Don Paolo grumbled under his breath: "This is an infirmary!" His friend Leyn, who also thought these numerous petty cares should be set aside at such a moment, experienced an unpleasant sensation of coldness. Giovanni experienced the same sensation, but in a reflex manner, for he knew the impression that those present, who were strangers to them, must receive of Dane and perhaps also of Minucci. He himself knew them well. Dane, with all his colds and his nerves and his sixty-two years, possessed, besides great learning, an indomitable vigour of mind and a steadfast moral courage.

Andrea Minucci, in spite of his disordered fair hair, his spectacles, and a certain awkwardness in his movements, which gave him the appearance of a learned German, was a youthful and most ardent soul, tried in the fire of life, not sparkling on the surface like the soul of the Lombard, but enveloped in its own flame, severe, and, probably, stronger.

Giovanni began speaking in a frank, open way. He thanked those present for coming, and excused the absent ones, the monk and the priest, at the same time expressing regret for their absence. He said that in any case their adherence was insured, and he insisted upon the importance of their adherence. He added, speaking louder and more slowly, and fixing his eyes on the Abbe Marinier, that for the time being he deemed it prudent not to divulge anything regarding either the meeting, or any measures which might be adopted; and he begged all to consider themselves bound in honour to silence. He then explained, rather more fully than he had done at supper, the idea he had conceived, and the object of the meeting,

"And now," he concluded, "let each one express his opinion."

A profound silence followed. The Abbe Marinier was about to speak when Dane rose feebly to his feet. His pale, fleshless face, refined and full of intellect, wore a look of solemn gravity. "I believe," said he in Italian, which sounded foreign and formal, but which was nevertheless warm with feeling, "that finding ourselves, as we now do, united at the beginning of a religious movement, we should at once do two things. The first is to concentrate our souls in G.o.d, silently each in his own way, until we feel the presence in us of G.o.d Himself, the desire of Him, His very glory, in our hearts. I will now do this, and I beg you to do it with me."

So saying, Professor Dane crossed his arms over his breast, bent his head, and closed his eyes. The others rose, and all save Abbe Marinier clasped their hands. The Abbe, with a sweeping gesture which embraced the air, brought them together on his breast. The soft complaining of the lamp, a step on the floor below could be distinctly heard. Marinier was the first to glance up furtively, to ascertain if the others still prayed. Dane raised his head, and said:

"Amen."

"The second thing!" he added. "We propose to ourselves to obey in all things the legitimate ecclesiastical authority--"

Don Paolo Fare burst out, exclaiming: "That must depend!"

The vibration of sudden thought, the m.u.f.fled rumbling of unspoken words, shook all present. Dane said slowly: "Exercised according to just principles." The movement shrunk to a murmur of a.s.sent, and then ceased.

Dane went on: "And now one thing more! Let there never be hatred of any one on our lips nor in our hearts!"

Don Paolo burst out again: "No, not hatred but indignation!

'_Circ.u.mspiciens eos c.u.m ira_!'"

"Yes," said Don Clemente in his sweet, soft voice; "when we shall have enthroned Christ within us; when we shall feel the wrath of pure love."

Don Paolo, who was near him, made no answer; he looked at him, his eyes suffused with tears, and, seizing his hand, carried it to his lips. The Benedictine drew back, startled, his face aflame.

"And we shall not enthrone Christ within us," said Giovanni, much moved, and pleased with the mystic breath he seemed to feel pa.s.sing over the a.s.sembly, "If we do not purify our ideas of reform through love; if, when the time comes to operate, we do not first purify our hands and our instruments. This indignation, this wrath of which you, Don Paolo, speak, is really a powerful snare which the evil one uses against us; powerful precisely because it bears the semblance of virtue and sometimes, as is the case with the saints really has the substance of virtue. In us it is nearly always pure malevolence, because we do not know how to love. The prayer I love best, after the _Pater Noster_, is the prayer of Unity, which unites us all in the spirit of Christ, when He prays thus to the Father: '_Ut et ipsi in n.o.bis unum sint._' The desire and hope are always strong within us of a union in G.o.d with those of our brothers whose beliefs separate them from us. Therefore say now whether you accept my proposal to found this a.s.sociation. First discuss the question, and then, if the proposal be accepted we will examine the means of promoting it."

Don Paolo exclaimed impetuously, that the principle needed no discussion; and Minucc observed, in a submissive tone, that the object of the meeting was known to all before they came; therefore, by their presence, they had implied their approval and their willingness to bind themselves together in a common action; the question of ways and means remaning still undecided. Abbe Marinier asked permission to speak. "I am really very sorry," he said smiling, "but I have not brought even the smallest thread with which to bind myself. I also am one of those who see many things going wrong in the Church. Still, when Signor Selva carefully explained his views to me (first at supper and then here), views which I had not clearly understood from my friend Professor Dane's explanation, certain objections, which I consider serious, forced themselves upon me."

"Exactly," thought Minucci, who had heard how ambitious Marinier was; "if you look for promotion, you must not join us;" and he added aloud: "Let us hear them."

"In the first place, gentlemen," the clever Abbe said, "it seems to me you have begun with the second meeting. I may say, with all due respect, that you remind me of a party of good people who sit down to a game of cards, and cannot get on because one holds Italian, one French, another German cards, and therefore they cannot understand one another. I have heard unanimity of opinions mentioned; but there exists perhaps among us rather a unanimity of negative opinions. We are probably unanimous in believing that the Catholic Church has grown to resemble a very ancient temple, originally of great simplicity, of great spirituality, which the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries have crowded with superfluities. Perhaps the more malicious among you will say that only a dead language may be spoken aloud in this temple, that living languages may only be whispered there, and that the sun itself takes on false colours when it s.h.i.+nes through the windows. But I cannot believe we are all of one mind as regards the quant.i.ty and quality of the remedies to be applied. Therefore before initiating this catholic freemasonry, I think it would be wiser to come to an understanding respecting these reforms. I will go even farther; I believe that, were it possible to establish perfect harmony of opinion among you, it would still be inexpedient to bind yourselves together with visible fetters, as Signor Selva proposes. My objection is of a most delicate nature. You doubtless expect to be able to swim in safety, below the surface, like wary fishes, and you do not reflect that the vigilant eye of the Sovereign-Fisherman, or rather Vice-Fisherman, may very easily spy you out, and spear you with a skilful thrust of the harpoon. Now I should never advise the finest, most highly flavoured, most desirable fishes to bind themselves together. You will easily understand what might happen should one be caught and landed. Moreover, you know very well that the great Fisherman of Galilee put the small fishes into his vivarium, but the Great Fisherman of Rome fries them."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Don Paolo with a laugh. The others maintained a frigid silence. The Abbe continued:

"Furthermore, I do not believe any good can be achieved through this league. a.s.sociations may be useful in helping to raise salaries, they may promote industries and commerce; but science and truth, never.

Reforms will surely be brought about some day, because ideas are stronger than men, and are always pressing forward; but by arraying them in armour, and marching them forward in companies, you expose them to a terrible fire, which will check their progress for a long time to come.

Science and religion progress only through the individual, through the Messiah. Have you a saint among you? Do you know where to look for one?

Then find him and let him march forward. Fiery language, broad charity, two or three little miracles, and your Messiah alone will achieve more than all of you together."

The Abbe was silent, and Giovanni rose to speak.

"Perhaps the Abbe," said he, "has not yet been able to form a true conception of the value of the union we desire. We have just prayed together, seeking to stand united in the Divine Presence. This is sufficient to indicate the character of our union. In consideration of the ills afflicting the Church--which in substance are the result of discord between her mutable human element and her immutable element of Divine Truth--we wish, in our desire that He may remove these discords, to become one in the G.o.d of Truth; and we wish to feel ourselves united.

Such a union has no need of community of opinion on certain subjects, although many of us hold many opinions in common. We do not propose to create a collective movement, either public or private, in order to bring about this or that reform. I am old enough to remember the time of the Austrian domination. If the Lombard and Venetian patriots called us together in those days to talk of politics, it was by no means always in order to conspire, nor to determine revolutionary acts; it was to enable us to communicate news, to become acquainted, to keep the flame of the idea alive. This is what we wish to do in the religious field. The Abbe Marinier may rest a.s.sured that that negative accord of which he spoke will amply suffice. We must strive to widen it, that it may embrace the majority of the intelligent faithful; that it may even reach the Hierarchy. He will see that positive accord will ripen in it, mysteriously, as the seed of life ripens in the decaying body of the fruit. Yes, yes, the negative accord is sufficient. The feeling that the Church of Christ is suffering is sufficient to unite us in the love of our Mother, and to move us at least to pray for her, we and our brothers who, like us, feel her sufferings! What is your answer, Abbe?"

The Abbe murmured with a faint smile:

"_C'est beau, mais ce n'est pas la logique_."

Don Paolo started up:

"Logic has nothing to do with it." "Ah!" Marinier replied, a.s.suming a contrite expression, "if you intend to forego logic----!"

Don Paolo, all on fire, wished to protest, but Professor Dane signed to him to be calm.

"We do not intend to forego logic," said he, "but it is not as easy to measure the logical value of a conclusion in questions of sentiment, of love of faith, as it is to measure the logical value of a conclusion in geometrical problems. In the questions which interest us the logical process is hidden. Surely my dear friend Marinier, one of the most acute-minded men I know, when he answered my dear friend Selva, did not intend to imply that when a person very dear to us falls ill, it is necessary for us to decide what method of treatment to adopt before hastening to his bedside together."

"These are very fine figures," said the Abbe Marinier with vehemence; "but you are all aware that similes are not arguments!"

Don Clemente, standing in the corner between the door leading into the corridor and the window, and Professor Minucci, seated near him, began to speak at the same moment, but both stopped short; each wis.h.i.+ng to allow the other to speak first. Selva proposed that the monk be heard first. All eyes were fixed on that n.o.ble face, the face of an archangel: Don Clemente's colour deepened, but he held his head erect. After a moment of hesitation he spoke in his soft, modest voice. "The Abbe Marinier made an observation which seemed to me very just. He said that we need a saint. I also believe this, I do not despair of finding one, for perhaps, even now, he exists. Who knows?"