“No!” said Ramón. “I come to ask you for peace. Tell the Archbishop what I say. Let him tell the Cardinals and the Pope, that the time has come for a Catholic Church of the Earth, the Catholic Church of All the Sons of Men. The Saviours are more than one, and let us pray they will still be increased. But God is one God, and the Saviours are the Sons of the One God. Let the Tree of the Church spread its branches over all the earth, and shelter the prophets in its shade, as they sit and speak their knowledge of the beyond.”
“Are you one of these prophets, Don Ramón?”
“I surely am, Father. And I would speak about Quetzalcoatl in Mexico, and build his Church here.”
“Nay! You would invade the Churches of Christ and the Blessed Virgin, I heard you say.”
“You know my intentions. But I do not want to quarrel with the Church of Rome, nor have bloodshed and enmity, Father. Can you not understand me? Should there not be peace between the men who strive down their different ways to the God-Mystery?”
“Once more desecrate the altars! Bring in strange idols. Burn the images of Our Lord and Our Lady, and ask for peace?” said the poor Bishop, who helplessly longed to be left alone.
“All that, Father,” said Ramón.
“Son, what can I answer? You are a good man smitten with the madness of pride. Don Cipriano is one more Mexican general. I am the poor old Bishop of this diocese, faithful servant of the Holy Church, humble child of the Holy Father in Rome. What can I do? What can I answer? Take me out to the cemetery and shoot me at once, General!”
“I don’t want to,” said Cipriano.
“It will end like that,” said the Bishop.