. But he would not any more
affirm the miracles as true.

Very well, it was not true, the water had not turned into
wine. The water had not turned into wine. But for all that he
would live in his soul as if the water had turned into
wine. For truth of fact, it had not. But for his soul, it
had.

"Whether it turned into wine or whether it didn't," he said,
"it doesn't bother me. I take it for what it is."

"And what is it?" she asked, quickly, hopefully.

"It's the Bible," he said.

That answer enraged her, and she despised him. She did not
actively question the Bible herself. But he drove her to
contempt.

And yet he did not care about the Bible, the written letter.
Although he could not satisfy her, yet she knew of herself that
he had something real. He was not a dogmatist. He did not
believe in fact that the water turned into wine. He did
not want to make a fact out of it. Indeed, his attitude was
without criticism. It was purely individual. He took that which
was of value to him from the Written Word, he added to his
spirit. His mind he let sleep.

And she was bitter against him, that he let his mind sleep.
That which was human, belonged to mankind, he would not exert.
He cared only for himself. He was no Christian. Above all,
Christ had asserted the brotherhood of man.

She, almost against herself, clung to the worship of the
human knowledge. Man must die in the body, but in his knowledge
he was immortal. Such, somewhere, was her belief, quite obscure
and unformulated. She believed in the omnipotence of the human
mind.

He, on the other hand, blind as a subterranean thing, just
ignored the human mind and ran after his own dark-souled
desires, following his own tunnelling nose. She felt often she
must suffocate. And she fought him off.

Then he, knowing he was blind, fought madly back again,
frantic in sensual fear. He did foolish things. He asserted
himself on his rights, he arrogated the old position of master
of the house.

"You've a right to do as I want," he cried.

"Fool!" she answered. "Fool!"

"I'll let you know who's master," he cried.

"Fool!" she answered. "Fool! I've known my own father, who
could put a dozen of you in his pipe and push them down with his
finger-end. Don't I know what a fool you are!"

He knew himself what a fool he was, and was flayed by the
knowledge. Yet he went on trying to steer the ship of their dual
life. He asserted his position as the captain of the ship.