“But the man strode forward, and with a violent hand plucked the veil from the statue.
“‘Not the Protectress of Homes,’ he cried, ‘but the ally of the Monster. Not the Goddess, Modesty, but her sham sister, Prudery. Down with false gods!’
“So saying, he threw the idol to the ground, where it was shattered into a thousand pieces. With those pieces the Fathers stoned him to death.
“But in many households that night there was a baring of the Veiled Idol. And ever, behind the folds, was revealed not the pure gaze of the True Goddess, but the simper and leer of Prudery, mute accomplice of Shame.
“Thus did the city awake. Fearfully it gathered its forces; tremblingly it prepared its war upon the Monster. But the Monster is intrenched. Its venom runs through the blood of the people, poisoning it from generation to generation, so that neither the grandsons nor the great-grandsons of those who stoned the martyr to the False Goddess shall escape the curse. The Prophet has said it: ‘Even unto the third and the fourth generations.’
“De te fabula narratur; of you is the fable narrated.
“The Land of Parables is your country.
“The stricken city is your city.
“The Monster coils at your doorway, lying in wait for your loved ones; and no prudence, no precaution, no virtue can guard them safely against his venom so long as the Silence of Prudery holds sway.”
Dr. Strong let the newspaper fall on his lap, and looked slowly from face to face of the silent little group.