"It grieves me, my father," said Edmond, suppressing his anger, "I am overwhelmed with inexpressible anguish at being compelled to feel myself so immeasurably distant from you in all that is dearest, holiest, most natural and nearest to my heart! From the moment that I was capable of thinking and feeling, our ancient and holy religion has been to me the most sacred, the most sublime, in her alone my heart lives, all my wishes and aspirations are brightly reflected in this clear crystal; this which love itself has proclaimed, this which is itself love, eternal, invisible, to us lost creatures become visible by descending in the form of a child, as our brother and nearest neighbour, and then suffering so painful a death for our wanderings and in this most devoted sacrifice thinking only of us, and of all our infirmities and corruptions in life and in death:--ought I ever to forget this, can I disdain it; my heart which this love consumes with gratitude; ought it to suffer this transcendent miracle of love to be annihilated, to be trampled in the dust, and all that is most holy reduced with scornful impiety to ruins, in order to associate it with all that is most contemptible?"
"Who requires that, my son?" exclaimed the old man; "even Turks and Heathens would and could not demand it, still less our brethren, who only desire to approach in plainness and simplicity that incomprehensible being, who, notwithstanding his immensity, so intimately and so closely connects himself with all our hearts in love and simplicity."
"In this portrait," said the son, "it would indeed be impossible to recognise those, who murder our priests, set fire to our sanctuaries, rob the peasant, and if they are victorious, which God forbid, would extend their heresy with fire and sword over the land."
"You see it thus, my son," said the old man, "because you will see it so; we misunderstand each other in this affair, for you resist conviction, and certainly as long as you are governed by this feeling, you will never possess that dispassionate clearness of mind, which according to my judgment, is necessary to render us susceptible of religion; and this alone is the true spirit of christianity, for which, it is true, you struggle with enthusiasm, but you cannot live in true devoted love."
The son rose indignantly from his seat, and walked hastily up and down the saloon, then he seized his father's hand, looked at him earnestly, and said: "Enthusiasm? with this word then, with this vague sound you have satisfied yourself, and responded to my sorrowing spirit. This is it exactly what the world desires, what the despairing one means whose heart is dead. Is it not so, the martyrs and heroes of the christian church were merely enthusiasts then?--and those who joyfully shed their blood and endured martyrdom for Him, to whom they could not offer too great a sacrifice of love and suffering, were fanatics too, because they were deficient in understanding and composure? All these miracles of love are merely the crude wanderings of delirious passion, which those celestial spirits have contemplated from on high, not with emotion and joy, but only with compassionate smiles, and those who expired in ecstasy are immediately greeted with grave looks and admonishing reproof! Oh, rather than discipline my throbbing heart to such presumption and vile incredulity, I would tear it palpitating from my breast, trample it under foot and throw it to the dogs for food."
"We will drop the subject," said the father, half angry, half moved, while he took a large book from the mantel-piece.
"I blame not your sentiments, far be it from me to censure what is sacred, but you do not know what it is, you have yet to learn that greatness and truth lie only on the verge, on the transition-point of this feeling; as we have beheld them in their ecstasy, we must draw back with timidity and reverence; but should the lying spirit entice us in our spiritual revellings to higher enthusiasm and visions, we sink under mental voluptuousness, and delusive images, fearful fancies take prisoners soul and heart, love dies within us; and you will be obliged to go through this sad probation, my son, and God knows if the issue does not leave you a seared, an empty heart, or perhaps a hypocrite, for thy path through life will not be smooth and easy."
With these words, the Lord of Beauvais sat down to read, his son took his hand and said in a gentle tone, "No, no, my father, let us go on with this subject, which once for all occupies my whole life. Is it possible that this reading, this reasoning of Plato can interest you at this moment? Am I permitted to feel as you do, am I not obliged to blindly obey, if moreover, this obedience accord with my sentiments?"
"St! st!" exclaimed the little girl playfully, and the dog ran barking towards the door, and could only be silenced by his master's whistling to him. "Is it not true," said Eveline, "that Hector is entirely of the true faith, for he might be so easily set upon the Camisards?"
"Silly child!" exclaimed Edmond reddening with anger, the father shook his head at her, but she continued: "Edmond said even now that he would give his heart to Hector to eat, therefore I may well consider him a very peculiar sort of dog." "Come Hector, they always do us injustice;" thus saying, she took the dog by the collar and both went into the garden.