“I wish the Church thought it equally natural to do for you what you do for these rats—after having blinded you in the same way.”
“Blinded, do you say! Such words from you? Illumined, my dear brother, illumined!”
“My words were plain matter-of-fact. It seems to me inadmissible that you should be abandoned in such a state as this. The Church entered into an engagement with you; she must keep it—for her own honour—for our faith’s sake.” Then, turning to Veronica: “If you have obtained nothing so far, you must appeal higher still—and still higher. Rampolla, did I say? It’s to the Pope himself that I shall present a petition—to the Pope. He is acquainted with your story. He ought to be informed of such a miscarriage of justice. I am returning to Rome to-morrow.”
“You’ll stop to dinner, won’t you?” asked Veronica, somewhat apprehensively.
“Please excuse me—but really my digestion is so poor....” (and Julius, whose nails were very carefully kept, glanced at Anthime’s large, stumpy, square-tipped fingers). “On my way back from Rome I shall be able to stop longer, and then I want to tell you about the new book I’m now at work on, my dear Anthime.”
“I have just been re-reading On the Heights and it seems to me better than I thought it at first.”
“I am sorry for you! It’s a failure. I’ll explain why when you’re in a fit state to listen and to appreciate the strange preoccupations which beset me now. But there’s too much to say. Mum’s the word for the present!”
He bade the Armand-Dubois keep up their spirits, and left them.
BOOK IV: THE MILLIPEDE
“Et je ne puis approuver que ceux qui cherchent en gémissant.”