"He will do that with him of which, if you but dreamed, it would change your fiercest hate into saddest, deepest pity. Have you realized what a span is our life here compared with the countless ages of eternity? Think! For God's chosen a few weeks, or months at most, of solitude and fear and pain, ended perhaps by--but that is as he pleases; ended, at all events. Then add up the million years, fill them with the joy of victory, and the presence and love of Christ himself. Can they not, and we for them, be content with this?"
"Are you content with it yourself?" Gonsalvo suddenly interrupted. "You seek flight."
The glow faded from the face of Carlos, and his eyes sank to the ground. "Christ has not called me yet," he answered in a lower tone. There was a silence; then he resumed: "Turn now to the other side. Would you change, even this hour, with Gonzales de Munebrãga? But take him from his wealth, and his pomp, and his sinful luxuries, all defiled with blood, and what remains for him? Everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels."
"Everlasting fire!" Gonsalvo repeated, as if the thought pleased him.
"Leave him in God's hand. It is a stronger hand than yours, Don Gonsalvo."
"Everlasting fire! I would send him there to-night."
"And whither would you send your own sinful soul?"
"God might pardon, though the Church cursed."
"Possibly. But to enter God's heaven you need something besides pardon."
"What?" asked Gonsalvo, half wearily, half incredulously.