"No—not a bit. We've had a fine morning chatting over some of the primitive religions, haven't we, old man?" and he smiled affectionately up to his grandfather. "Hello, Nance, come and sit by me."
The girl had paused in the doorway while he spoke, and came now to take his hand, after a look of inquiry at the two men. The latter withdrew, the eyes of the old man sadly beseeching the eyes of the physician for some definite sign of hope.
Inside, the sufferer lay holding a hand of Nancy between his cheek and the pillow—with intervals of silence and blithe speech. His disordered mind, it appeared, was still pursuing its unfortunate tangent.
"The first ideas are all funny, aren't they, Nance? Genesis in that Christian mythology we were discussing isn't the only funny one. There was the old northern couple who danced on the bones of the earth nine times and made nine pairs of men and women; and there were the Greek and his wife who threw stones out of their ark that changed to men; and the Hindu that saved the life of a fish, and whom the fish then saved by fastening his ship to his horn; and the South Sea fisherman who caught his hook in the water-god's hair and made him so angry that he drowned all the world except the offending fisherman. Aren't they nearly as funny as the god who made one of his pair out of clay and one from a rib, and then became so angry with them that he must beget a son for them to sacrifice before he would forgive them? Let's think of the pleasanter ones. Do you know that hymn of the Veda?—'If I go along trembling like a cloud, have mercy, Almighty, have mercy!'
"'Through want of strength, thou strong and bright God, have I gone wrong. Have mercy, Almighty, have mercy!'
"And Buddha was a pleasant soul, Nance—with stuff in him, too—born a prince, yet leaving his palace to be poor and to study the ways of wisdom, until enlightenment came to him sitting under his Bo tree. He said faith was the best wealth here. And, 'Not to commit any sin, to do good and to purify one's mind, that is the teaching of the awakened'; 'not hating those who hate us,' 'free from greed among the greedy.' They must have been glad of Buddhism in their day, teaching them to honour their parents, to be kind to the sick and poor and sorrowing, to forgive their enemies and return good for evil. And there was funny old Confucius with his 'Coarse rice for food, water to drink, the bended arm for a pillow—happiness may be enjoyed even with these; but without virtue, both riches and honour seem to me like the passing cloud.' Another one of his is 'In the book of Poetry are three hundred pieces—but the designs of them all mean, "Have no depraved thoughts."' Rather good for a Chinaman, wasn't it?
"And there was old Zoroaster saying to his Ormuzd, 'I believe thee, O God! to be the best thing of all!' and asking for guidance. Ormuzd tells him to be pure in thought, word and deed; to be temperate, chaste and truthful—and this Ormuzd would have no lambs sacrificed to him. Life, being his gift, was dear to him. And don't forget Mohammed, Nance, that fine old barbarian with the heart of a passionate child, counselling men to live a good life and to strive after the mercy of God by fasting, charity and prayer, calling this the 'Key of Paradise.' He went after a poor blind man whom he had at first rebuffed, saying 'He is thrice welcome on whose account my Lord hath reprimanded me.' He was a fine, stubborn old believer, Nance. I wonder if it's not true that the Christians once studied these old chaps to take the taste of their own cruder God out of their minds. What a cruel people they must have been to make so cruel a God!
"But let's talk of you, Nance—that's it—light the chandeliers in your eyes."
He spoke drowsily now, and lay quiet, patting one of her hands. But presently he was on one elbow to study her again.
"Nance, the Egyptians worshipped Nature, the Greeks worshipped Beauty, the Northern chaps worshipped Courage, and the Christians feared—well, the hereafter, you know—but I'm a Catholic when you smile."