A certain pale thin monk seized Paphnutis by the surplice—
"Father Paphnutis," he shouted to drown the general clamour, "what is all this about?... It is a question of a single word; is not that so?" and forthwith he began to narrate terrible scenes he had witnessed in Alexandria and Constantinople. The Arians had opened with wooden pincers the mouths of those unwilling to receive the Sacrament in heretic churches, and forced the host between their lips. Mere children were subjected to inquisition; the breasts of women were crushed under leaden weights and branded with live iron. In the Church of the Holy Apostles so horrible a struggle had taken place between Arians and Orthodox that the blood, overflowing the cistern which received the drainage of the place, had poured down the steps in front of the western façade and streamed into the market-square. At Alexandria the governor Sebastian had caused virgins to be beaten with thorn branches, so that many of them had succumbed and their bodies lay unburied outside the city gates. All this contention was over a single letter, an iota.
"Father Paphnutis," argued the pale monk, "for an iota! The word 'substantial' does not even occur in the holy Scripture. What are we then torturing each other about? Think, Father; it is horrible!"
"Then," interrupted the Arch-priest impatiently, "must we be reconciled with those impious dogs who will not hunt out of their pestilent hearts the doctrine that there was a moment when the Son of God did not exist?"
"'One Shepherd and one Flock,'" the monk returned: "Let us make them some concessions!"
But Paphnutis refused to hear anything, vociferating till the veins of his neck almost burst—
"Let the enemies of God be silent! Never will I give in! Anathema on the Arian heresy! Such have I received the faith from my fathers, and such will I keep it!"
Ozius the centenarian wagged approvingly his white head and long beard. On the other side of the hall two archdeacons were talking together.
"You keep very calm, Father Dorophas. Why are you taking no part in discussion to-day?"
"My voice is gone, Father Flavius. I am too hoarse with anathematising the cursed sectaries."