Father Canisius observed that by bearing on too hard he had awakened a rebellious spirit. He therefore became more cautious, and resumed gently:
"Certainly, Johannes. God is infinitely good and merciful. But have you not remarked that there is a justice from which you cannot escape? And do you believe that one who has been led astray can plead, 'I am not guilty, for I was deceived'? No, Johannes, you take this matter too lightly. Punishment attends sin. That is God's inexorable law. And only if He had failed to warn us—only if He had not accurately revealed to us His will, could you call that cruel and unjust. But we are warned—are instructed—and may follow good guidance. If then we continue to stray, it is our own fault and we must not complain."
"You mean the Bible, do you not, Mijnheer?"
"The Bible and the Church," said the Father, not pleased at the tone of this question. "I very well comprehend, my boy, that you, with your poetic temperament and your craving for the beautiful, have not found peace in the cold, barren, and barbarous creed of Protestantism. But the Church gives you everything—beauty, warmth, love, and exalted poetry. In the Church alone can you find peace and perfect security. You know, however, do you not, that the flock has need of a Shepherd? And you know also who that Shepherd is?"
"Do you mean the Pope?"
"I mean Christ, Johannes—our Redeemer, of whom the Pope is merely a human representative. Do you know this Shepherd? Do you not know Jesus Christ?"
"No, Mijnheer," replied Johannes, in all simplicity, "I do not know him at all."
"I thought as much; and that is why I said to you, 'Poor boy.' But if you wish to learn to know him, I will gladly help you. Do you wish me to?"
"Why not, Mijnheer?" said Johannes.
"Very well. Begin, then, by accompanying the countess to the church she has promised me to attend—Have you, indeed, arranged to go?"