Love books his passage in the emigrant ship," said Rodney. "You speak
truly. There are no bastards in Ireland; and the bastard is the outward
sign of inward grace."

"That which tends to weaken life is the only evil, that which
strengthens life the only good, and the result of this puritanical
Catholicism will be an empty Ireland."

"Dead beyond hope of resurrection," said Rodney.

"I don't say that; a wave of paganism may arise, and only a pagan
revival can save Ireland."

"Ah, the beautiful pagan world!" said Rodney; "morality is but a dream,
an academic discussion, but beauty is a reality."

"Out of the billions of men that have been born into the world," said
Carmady, "I am only sure that two would have been better unborn; and
the second was but a reincarnation of the first."

"And who were they?" said Rodney.

"St. Paul and Luther. Had it not been for Paul, the whole ghostly
theory would have been a failure, and had it not been for Luther the
name of Christ would be forgotten now. When the acetic monk,
barefooted, ragged, with prayer-haunted eyes, went to Rome, Rome had
reverted to her ancient paganism, statues took the place of sacraments,
and the cardinals drove about Rome with their mistresses."

"The Pope, too," said Rodney.

"Everything was for the best when the pilgrim monk turned in shame and
horror from the awakening; the kingdom of the earth was cursed. We
certainly owe the last four hundred years of Christianity to Luther."

"I wonder if that is so," said Rodney.

After a pause, Carmady continued, "Belief is declining, but those who
disavow the divinity of Christ eagerly insist that they retain his
morality--the cowardly morality of the weak who demand a redeemer to
redeem them. The morality of the Ghetto prevails; Christians are
children of the Ghetto."

"It is given to men to choose between sacraments and statues," said
Rodney. "Beauty is a reality, morality is a myth, and Ireland has
always struck me as a place for which God had intended to do something,
but He changed his mind and that change of mind happened about a
thousand years ago. Quite true that the Gael was hunted as if he were
vermin for centuries, and had to think how to save his life. But there
is no use thinking what the Gael might have done. It is quite certain
he'll never do it now--the time has gone by; everything has been done
and gloriously."

And for a long while Rodney spoke of Italy.

"I'll show you a city," he sa