substance of godhead itself, looking out at you in those kinds of beauty which are peculiar to women—well and good. In that case, I may personally not object to employing the old name Venus. But all this is very different from those gross, brutish ideas with which the name is commonly associated. For example, what do your Don Juans, your rich men about town, who can buy as many women as are to be bought for money, know of the higher pleasures which I have specified? Nothing. To them a woman is ‘pretty,’ or ‘nice,’ or ‘jolly,’ just as a cigar or a bottle of wine is in good condition; they set about the conquest of a ‘fine’ woman as they would kill a fine salmon; they attach about as much idea of the sacramental to women as a dog does, probably not so much. Sacrament! It’s sport, sir, rattling sport, nothing more. Pledge it merrily, fill your glasses! No, no, Cardinal Power, you must not call Our Lady Venus; it will not do. The name is misleading; in your mouth or mine it might mean something holy; in the mouth of the world in general it would mean only what is coarse and degrading. As much passionate adoration of Her as you will—the more the better; but it must be sanctified passion; the animal instincts must be subdued to the service of Divine Order, or they are sacrilegious.’
‘I am glad to hear you say that, Miss Newman,’ said the cardinal; ‘we understand each other better now. And I will own that you have both given me much, very much, to think of.’
‘That is something gained, Cardinal Power,’ said Lesbia; ‘only I trust, for the sake of the whole religious world, and in particular for your grand old Church, which surely would not have been preserved to our times unless to fulfil some great mission, that the words we have unskilfully spoken to you to-day may bear fruit in action. There is no time to lose; the Revolution is washing round your base, and if you
