“I suppose the priest would say that was very wicked.”
“What do I care for that popinjay? How did you get over it? Had you no sensation of horror, when you were required to bow down to those stocks and stones?”
“Well, no,” said Christian, speaking very slowly. “I believed what Gerard had taught us, and—”
“When did Gerhardt ever teach you that rubbish?”
“He never did,” answered David. “The priests taught us that. And I did find it main hard to swallow at first.”
“Ah! I’m afraid I shall find it too hard to swallow at last. But there is nothing of all that in this book.”
“I know nought about books. But of course the Church must know the truth,” responded David uneasily.
“This is the truth,” answered Countess, laying her hand upon the book. “But if this be, that is not. David—Ruth—I believe as you do in Jesus Christ of Nazareth: but I believe in no gilded images nor priestly lies. I shall take my religion from His words, not from them. I should like to be baptised, if it mean to confess Him before men; but if it only mean to swallow the priests’ fables, and to kneel before gods that cannot hear nor save, I will have none of it. As the Lord liveth, before whom I stand, I will never bow down to the work of men’s hands!”
She had risen and stood before them, a grand figure, with hands clenched and eyes on fire. Christian shrank as if alarmed. David spoke in a regretful tone.
“Well! I thought that way myself for a while. But they said. I couldn’t be a Christian if I did not go to church, and attend the holy mass. The Church had the truth, and God had given it to her: so I thought I might be mistaken, and I gave in. I’ve wondered sometimes whether I did right.”