"There were twelve boxes—were there not?—upon as many pillars, and in each box, in addition to the customary handful of copper sous, there lay, as I recall it, a silver coin——"
"You will perceive the symbolism," the author whispered.
"It is perfect," sighed Mabel.
"Never had such a thing occurred before," continued Mr. Hopworthy, who appeared to know the story very well, "and in the solitude of his cell, Ignatius sat for hours contemplating the riches that had so strangely come into his hand. His first thought was of the poor, to whom, of right, the alms belonged; but, when he recalled the avarice of The Abbot, his heart misgave him——"
"Rather a striking situation, I thought," remarked the writer. "Go on a little further, please."
"I wish I could," said Mr. Hopworthy, "but this is where your keen analysis comes in, your irresistible logic. I confess you went a shade beyond my radius of thought."
"Perhaps," admitted the other. "Very likely." But he had now caught the spirit of his own production, and, turning to his neighbor, he went on to explain:
"My purpose was to present a problem, to suggest a conflict of emotions, quite in the manner of Huysmans. Should The Abbot, who is but the type of sordid wisdom, be consulted, or should The Almoner, symbolizing self, obey the higher call of elementary impulse?"
"And which did Ignatius do?" Mabel asked.
"I fear you fail to catch my meaning," said the author. "It is the soul-struggle we are analyzing——"