He would hear preached again, in the language of a new
day, his own religion of love, humility, and poverty. The new faith
springs from the very heart of Catholicism, banned and persecuted as new
faiths have always been; but every day it lives, it spreads! Knowledge
and science walk hand in hand with it; the future is before it. It
spreads in tales and poems, like the Franciscan message; it penetrates
the priesthood; it passes like the risen body of the Lord through the
walls of seminaries and episcopal palaces; through the bulwarks that
surround the Vatican itself. Tenderly, yet with an absolute courage, it
puts aside old abuses, old ignorances!--like St. Francis, it holds out
its hand to a spiritual bride--and the name of that bride is Truth! And
in his grave within the rock--on tiptoe--the Poverello listens--the
Poverello smiles!"
The poet raised his hand and pointed to the convent pile, towering under
the moonlight. Diana's eyes filled with tears. Sir James had come back
to the group, his face, with its dignified and strenuous lines,
bent--half perplexed, half frowning--on the speaker. And the magic of
the Umbrian night stole upon each quickened pulse.
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