“You could never be that. But what is still more rotten is the system that lets old men continue in office after they have proved themselves unfit for it.”
Rosalie’s eyes betrayed a charming depth of horror at this cold-blooded statement.
“But, sir,” said she, “who is to be the judge of their incapacity? And, again, it seems so cruel, and—and—doesn’t it make a terrible lot of enemies for you, saying things like that?”
The Golden Priest laughed. The last remark evidently was to some point.
“In the cause of common sense one has no objection to making enemies. And I cannot for the life of me see why the highest position in the land should never be filled by a man till he’s nearly in his dotage.”
“Oh! it’s more restful. Besides, a great and a good man should retain his intellect to his death, however old and feeble he may be.”
“Granted! But feebleness is no qualification for an important post. And greatness and goodness should discern its own capacity.”
“Is it true, then, that the Great High Priest is resigning?”
“Yes; in a few months.”
“He has discernment, then?”