w, symbols, signs, saints, rituals, vows--these things, in my mind,
are all scrapped together as junk. Only, in me, the warm faith
remains--that within me there lives a god of sorts--perhaps that
immortal essence called a soul--and that its only name is love. And it
has given us only one law to live by--the Law of Love!"

Brisson's cigar had gone out. He examined it attentively and found it
would be worth relighting when opportunity offered.

Then he smiled amiably at Palla Dumont:

"What you say is very interesting," he remarked. But he was too polite
to add that it had been equally interesting to numberless generations
through the many, many centuries during which it all had been said
before, in various ways and by many, many people.

Lying back in his furs reflectively, and deriving a rather cold
satisfaction from his cigar butt, he let his mind wander back through
the history of theocracy and of mundane philosophy, mildly amused to
recognize an ancient theory resurrected and made passionately original
once more on the red lips of this young girl.

But the Law of Love is not destined to be solved so easily; nor had it
ever been solved in centuries dead by Egyptian, Mongol, or Greek--by
priest or princess, prophet or singer, or by any vestal or acolyte of
love, sacred or profane.

No philosophy had solved the problem of human woe; no theory
convinced. And Brisson, searching leisurely the forgotten corridors of
treasured lore, became interested to realise that in all the history
of time only the deeds and example of one man had invested the human
theory of divinity with any real vitality--and that, oddly enough,
what this girl preached--what she demanded of divinity--had been both
preached and practised by that one man alone--Jesus Christ.

Turning involuntarily toward Palla, he said: "Can't you believe in
Him, either?"

She said: "He was one of the Gods. But He was no more divine than any
in whom love lives. Had He been more so, then He would still
intervene to-day! He is powerless. He lets things happen. And we
ourselves must make it up to the world by love. There is no other
divinity to intervene except only our own hearts."

But that was not, as the young girl supposed, her fixed faith,
definite, ripened, unshakable. It was a phase already in process of
fading into other phases, each less stable, less definite, and more
dangerous than the other, leaving her and her ardent mind and heart
always unconsciou