Florian’s judges made an odd pair. For resplendent Michael showed in everything as divine, and in his face was the untroubled magnanimity of a great prince of Heaven. But Janicot had the appearance of a working man, all a sober and practical brown, which would show no stains after the performance of any necessary labor, and his face was the more shrewd.
“First,” said Janicot, “let us drink. That is the proper beginning of any dispute, for it makes each think his adversary a splendid fellow, it promotes confidence and candor alike.”
“Nobody should lack confidence and candor when it comes to dealing with sin,” replied Michael: and with one heroic draught he emptied his cup.
Florian sipped his more tentatively: for this seemed uncommonly queer wine.
“Sin,” Janicot said now, as if in meditation, “is a fine and impressive monosyllable.”
“Sin,” Michael said, with sternness, “is that which is forbidden by the word of God.”
“But, to be sure!” Florian put in. “Sin is a very grave matter: and to expiate it requires stained windows and candles and, above all, repentance—”
“Ah, but a word,” said Janicot, “has no inherent meaning, it has merely the significance a mutual agreement arbitrarily attaches to that especial sound. Let me refill your cup, which I perceive to be empty: and, Monsieur the Duke, do you stop talking to your judges. That much—to resume,—is true of all words. And the word of your god has been so variously pronounced, my good Michael, it has been so diversely interpreted, that, really, men begin to wonder—”
“I did not sit down,” cried Michael, “to hear blasphemies, but to settle the doom of this sinner. Nor will I chop logic with you. I am a blunt soldier, and you are subtle. Yes, the world knows you are subtle, but how far has your subtlety got you? Why, it has got you as far as from heaven to hell.”
Florian vastly admired that just and pious summing-up as he leaned back in his chair, and looked toward Janicot. Florian was feeling strangely complacent, though, for Hoprig’s wine was extraordinarily potent tipple to have come from the cupboard of a saint.