"And is there nothing in Christ to compensate?" she replied, with a momentary flash in the grey eyes. "What is Heaven but God? 'The City had no need of the sun, for the glory of God did lighten her:' 'and temple I saw none in her, for the Lord God the Almighty is Temple to her, and the Lamb.'"
Lady Sybil seemed interested; but I must confess that I thought the conversation had assumed a very disagreeable tone; and I wondered how it was that both Lady Judith and my old Marguerite spoke to me as if they thought I did not serve God. It is very strange, when I hear the holy mass sung every morning, and I have only just offered another neuvaine at the Holy Sepulchre. However, Easter will soon be here, and I mean to be very attentive to my devotions throughout the Holy Week, and see if that will satisfy Lady Judith. I don't want her to think ill of me. I like her too well for that, though I do wish she would not talk as if she fancied I did not serve God. I am sure I am quite as good as most people, and that is saying a great deal.
No, it can never be wrong to hate people. It can't be, and it shan't! And I just wish I could roast that Count of Tripoli before the fire in the Palace kitchen till he was done to a cinder. I am white-hot angry; and like Jonah the Prophet, I do well to be angry. The mean, fawning, sneaking, interloping rascal! I knew what he meant by his professions of love and friendship! Guy's eyes were shut, but not mine. The wicked, cruel, abominable scoundrel!—to climb up with Guy's help to within an inch of the top where he sat, and then to leap the inch and thrust him out of his seat! I cannot find words ugly enough for him. I hate, hate, hate him!
To have supplanted my Guy! After worming himself into the confidence of the Lord King, through Guy's friendship—ay, there is the sting!—to have carried to the King all the complaints that he heard against Guy, until he, poor helpless Seigneur! (I don't feel nearly so vexed with him) really was induced to believe Guy harsh and incapable, and to take out of his hands the government of the kingdom. And then he put in that serpent, that false Judas, that courtly hypocrite—Oh dear! I cannot find words to describe such wickedness—and he is Regent of the Holy Land, and Guy must kneel to him.
I could cut him in slices, and enjoy doing it!
I am angry with Melisende, who can find nothing to say but—"Ah, the fortune of Courts—one down to-day, another up to-morrow." And I am almost angry with Marguerite, who says softly—"Hush, then, my Damoiselle! Is it not the good God?"
No, it is not. It is the Devil who sends sorrow upon us, and makes us hate people, and makes people be hateful. I am sure the good God never made Count Raymond do such wicked things.
Instead of casting Adam and Eva out of Paradise,—Oh why, why did the good God not cast out the Devil?
"Is my Damoiselle so much wiser than the Lord?" quietly asks Marguerite.
I cannot understand it. The old cry comes up to me again,—Oh, if I could know! Why cannot I understand?