"Your argument is perfectly orthodox!" said Gherardi, with a smile.
"Hate is a grand, a strong quality!" went on Moretti, "It makes nations, it builds up creeds! If men loved one another what should they need of a Church? But Hate!—the subtle sense which makes the ultra-respectable thank God that he is not as other men are!—the fierce emotion which almost touches ecstacy when the wronged individual thinks his enemy will go to hell!—the fine fever which sets father against son, creed against creed, nation against nation!—hate is the chief mainspring of human motives! From hate and envy spring emulation and conquest—and we of the Church encourage the haters to hate on! They make Us!—they emulate each other in the greed of their gifts to us, which give them notoriety and advertise their generosity,—WE fan the flame and encourage the fury! For the world must have a religion—it crucified Christ, but the Church, built up in His name, takes just and daily revenge for His murder! We do not save—we kill! We do not rescue—we trample down! We humiliate,—we crush wherever we can, and it is well and fitting we should do so! For Humanity is a brute beast, and serves us best under the lash. Rome made many a blunder in the old days of barbarity and ignorance—but now we have a thousand forces put into our hands instead of one or two,—forces to terrorise—forces to compel!—and the power of Rome wielded by the Popes of the days to come, shall be indeed a power irresistible!"
He stood enrapt,—his hand upraised, his eyes flashing, then recalling himself, turned abruptly on Gherardi with an impatient gesture.
"You can repeat all this," he said sarcastically, "in your next eloquent discourse with Aubrey Leigh! It will save you the trouble of thinking! His influence with the English masses will be but a brief phenomenon,—the blind and brutal stupidity of the people he seeks to serve will soon dishearten and discourage him, and then he will come to us through his wife, and his conversion will be a triumph worth winning,—a step in the right direction. And now to other matters. These papers," and he sat down at the table once more, "are, I think, sufficiently in order to be placed before His Holiness. But you may as well look through them with me first. Later on, the affair of Cardinal Bonpre will occupy all our time . . ."
"It is an 'affair' then?" asked Gherardi, "The 'saint' is in trouble?"
"All 'saints' get into trouble!" answered Moretti, "It is only sinners who receive honour! Cardinal Bonpre has made the fatal mistake of reading Jesus Christ's Gospel instead of Church Doctrine! His creed is Love,—his duty, as I have just explained to you, if he would be a faithful son of the Church, is Hate!"
"Love forms no part of your nature then?" asked Gherardi, hardly knowing why he put the question, yet curious as to the answer.
"I am of the world!" replied Moretti coldly, "And I hate accordingly. I hate, and in my hate, aspire to crush those who in turn hate me! That is the human code, and one that must be strictly practised by all who would rule mankind. Never do anything for those who can do nothing for you! Firmly oppose those who oppose you! Revenge yourself on those who despitefully use you! We do revenge ourselves,—and we reward all who help us to our revenge! For example, Denis Vergniaud has cast opprobrium on his calling, and made a scandal and a shame of the Church before his congregation in Paris;—we excommunicate him! It is no use, but we do it on principle. And we are still unable to explain away, or offer any excuse for Cardinal Bonpre's mistake in condoning and pardoning his offence. Therefore it follows as you say, that the 'saint' is in trouble!"
"Notwithstanding the miracle?"
"Notwithstanding the miracle!" echoed Moretti, "For the miracle is doubtful. The Holy Father is not satisfied of its truth. Yes—there is no doubt about it, Saint Felix is in trouble! It would be better for him had he never come out of his long retirement. But perhaps he was compelled to look after his Rouen foundling!"