xtend everywhere, although, of course, somehow or other it did.
Anyhow, it was certain that not so very far off there were Saracens
and Turks--why he had seen some of the Duke of Calabria's Turkish
garrison--who believed in Macomet, Trevigant, and Apollinis; these to be
sure were false gods (the word _false_ carried no clear meaning to his
mind, or if any, one rather equivalent to _wrong, objectionable_ rather
than to non-existent), but they certainly worked wonderful miracles for
their people. And indeed--here Domenico's placid contemplation of the
kingdom of Macomet, Trevigant, and Apollinis was exchanged for a vague
horror, shot with gleams of curiosity--the devil also had his place in
the world, a place much nearer and universal, and did marvellous things,
pointing out treasures, teaching the future, lending invulnerable
strength to the men and women who worshipped him, of whom some might
be pointed out to you in every town--yes, grave and respectable men,
priests and monks among them, and even Cardinals of Holy Church, as
every one knew quite well.... So that, in a confused manner, rather
negative than positive, Domenico considered that the Pagan gods must
be somewhere or other, the past and present not very clearly separated
in his mind, or rather the past existing in a peculiar simultaneous
manner with the present, as a sort of St. Brandan's isle, in distant,
unattainable seas; or as Dante's mountain of Purgatory, a very solid
mountain indeed, yet which, for some mysterious and unquestioned reason,
people never stumbled upon except after death. All this was scarcely an
actual series of arguments; it was rather the arguments which, with much
effort, Domenico might have fished out of his obscure consciousness
had you summoned him to explain how the ancient gods could possibly
be immortal. As to him, he had always heard of them as immortal, and
although he had not been taught any respect or love for them as for
Christ, the Madonna, and the saints, they must be existing somewhere
since _immortal_ means that which cannot die.

But now he began to feel a certain shyness about immortal gods, for they
had begun to occupy his thoughts, and it was with much cunning that he
put questions to his friend Filarete, desirous to gain information on
certain points without actually seeming to ask it. The humanist, summoned
to explain what the Fathers of the Church--those worthies crowned with
mitres and offering rolls of manuscript,