o if he ever saw a gentler-hearted
creature: he lived here two years, and died of the Maremma fever, that
he caught from a peasant whom he was nursing. And there again, that
wild-looking fellow with the scarlet cap--he it was who stole the
Medici jewels out of the Pitti to give his mistress, and killed himself
afterwards when she deserted him. Weigh the good and evil of these men's
hearts, boy, and you have subtle weights if you can strike the balance
for or against them. We are all but what good or evil fortune makes us,
just as a landscape catches its tone from light; and what is glorious
in sunshine is bleak and desolate and dreary beneath a leaden sky and
lowering atmosphere!'

'I'll not believe it,' said the boy boldly. 'I have read of fellows
that never showed the great stuff they were made of until adversity had
called it forth. They were truly great!'

'Truly great!' repeated the other, with an intense mockery. 'The truly
great we never hear of. They die in workhouses or garrets--poor, dreary
optimists, working out of their finespun fancies hopeful destinies for
those who sneer at them.

The idols men call great are but the types of Force--mere Force. One day
it is courage; another, it is money; another day, political craft is the
object of worship. Come, boy,' said he, in a lighter vein, 'what have
these worthy Jesuits taught you?'

'Very different lessons from yours,' said the youth stoutly. 'They
taught me to honour and reverence those set in authority over me.'

'Good; and then----'

'They taught me the principles of my faith; the creed of the Church.'

'What Church?'

'What but the one Church--the Catholic!'

'Why, there are fifty, child, and each with five hundred controversies
within it. Popes denying Councils; Councils rejecting Popes; Synods
against Bishops; Bishops against Presbyters. What a mockery is it all!'
cried he passionately. 'We who, in our imperfect forms of language,
have not even names for separate odours, but say, "this smells like the
violet," and "that like the rose," presume to talk of eternity and that
vast universe around us, as though our paltry vocabulary could compass
such themes! But to come back: were you happy there?'

'No; I could not bear the life, nor did I wish to be a priest.'

'What would you be, then?'

'I wish I knew,' said the boy fervently.

'I'm a bad counsellor,' said the other, with a bitter smile; 'I have
tried several things, and failed in all.'