"What did they do, Rupert?"
"Well, you seem to say, nothing! But don't you come to Rome to admire what they did?"
"Some of the things they did, or made. But stand still here, Rupert, and look. Do you see the Rome of the Caesars? You see an arch here and a theatre there; but the city of those days is buried. It is under our feet. The great works of art here, those that were done in their day, were not done by them. Do you think it is any good to one of those old emperors in the other world—take the best of them—is it any good to him now that he had some of these splendid buildings erected, or marbles carved? Or that his armies conquered the world, and his government held order wherever his arms went? If he is happy in the presence of God, is it anything to him, now, that we look back and admire his work?—and if he is unhappy, banished that Presence, is it anything to him then?"
"Well, what is greatness then?" said Rupert. "What is worth a man's trying for, if these greatest things are worth nothing?"
"I do not think anything is really great or worth while," said Dolly, "except those things that God likes."
"You come back to religion," said Rupert. "I did not mean religion. What are those things?"
"I do not think anything is worth trying for, Rupert, except the things that will last."
"What things will last?" said he half impatiently.
"Look here," said Dolly. "Step a little this way. Do you see the Colosseum over yonder? Who do you think will remember, and do remember, that with most pleasure; Vespasian and Titus who built it, or the Christians who gave themselves to the lions there for Christ's sake?"
"Yes," said Rupert, "of course; but that isn't the thing. There are no lions here now."