I replied, "It is written, 'Fear not, little flock; for it is the Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.'"
"The kingdom of France?"
"No, the kingdom of heaven."
"To whom were the words spoken?"
"To the early Christians, whose praise is in all the churches—whom the Catholics not only reverence but worship."
"Hum. Well, if they weathered such persecution as this, perhaps these may; but I could not stand it, I!—Do you know (with great awe) there are dungeons called Hippocrates' Sleeves, the walls of which slope like the inside of a funnel tapering to a point, so that those who are put inside them can neither lie, sit, nor stand? They are let down into them with cords, and drawn up every day to be whipped."
"And have any come forth alive from such places?"
"I grant you; but sometimes without teeth or hair."
"O, what glorious faith, to survive such a test!" exclaimed I.
"But some don't survive."