“I do not mean you,” said Benedetto. “The physician was speaking to the man who does not believe in medicine. And he continued, thus: ‘Do you come to me for health and life? I will give you both. Are you not come for that? Then I have no time for you!’ The man, who had always believed himself to be well, turned pale, and said. ‘Master, I place myself in your hands; give me life!’”
The three students stood for a moment dum-founded. When they showed signs of coming to their senses, and of wishing to answer, Benedetto continued:
“If three blind men ask me for my lamp of truth what shall I reply? I shall reply, ‘First go and prepare your eyes for it, because, should I give it unto your hands now, you would receive no light from it, and you would only break it.’”
“I hope,” said the tall, lean, bespectacled student, “that in order to see your lamp of truth it may not be necessary to shut out the light of the sun. But, after all, I can easily understand that you do not wish to explain yourself to us, whom you believe to be reporters. To-day we are not—or at least I am not—in the state of mind you desire. I may be blind, but I do not feel inclined to ask the Pope for light, or a Luther either. Nevertheless, if you come to Rome, you will find young men better disposed than I am, than we are. Come, speak, let us also listen to you! To-day it is curiosity with us, to-morrow, who knows? we may feel the right spirit. Come to Rome!”
“Give me your name,” said Benedetto.
The other offered him his card. His name was Elia Viterbo. Benedetto looked at him curiously.
“Yes, indeed,” he said, “I am a Jew; but these two baptised ones are no better Christians than I am. I have, moreover, no religious prejudices.”
The interview was over. As they were leaving, the youngest of the party, the man of the stream of questions, made a last onslaught.
“Tell us, at least, if you believe Catholics should vote on political questions?”
Benedetto was silent. The other insisted: