“I am master here,” I cried, “and I tell you I will have no more of this. Shut up! Are you all crazy, or do you take this for the Council of Nicea? If you want subjects to discuss, pick out something of our own day, for I am bored to death with your old quarrels. If the doctor has ordered you to dispute by way of exercise, you can wrangle over the merits of these wines, the food on the table, or anything you can see or touch, and then there will be some way to decide the controversy; but to differ about the Holy Ghost, or the mind of God, is as much as to say that you have no minds of your own. I am not opposed to faith; I believe, he believes, you believe, as much as you please, but don’t let us talk so much about it. There are plenty of other interesting topics in the world, and, since each of you is perfectly sure to go to Heaven, with a place reserved for you, and all the people who differ from you barred out, let us be happy meanwhile, and leave the good Lord to arrange His household as seems good to Him. Surely He is able to look after His own affairs without assistance from us; He reigns in Heaven, and we on earth; our business is to make it as habitable a place as possible, and to that end we must all do our share; not one of us can be spared; even you four can be useful in your day and generation. Your country needs your faith, John Francis, as much as yours, Anthony; Michael’s adventurous spirit and Anisse’s stay-at-home qualities are equally valuable; for you are the four pillars of the house, and if one gives way, the whole building falls to the ground, and will overwhelm you all in ruin. Surely you must be convinced by such masterly reasoning, and will agree that you do not wish anything so unnecessary. What would you think of sailors in a storm at sea if they fell to disputing instead of taking in sail? “I will tell you a story about King Henry and our late Duke. They were lamenting the warlike disposition of the French nation which led to perpetual civil wars. ‘Ventresaintgris!’ exclaimed the King, ‘but I should like to take these furious monks and preachers of the Gospel, sew them up in a sack like a litter of cats, and throw them into the Loire!’ The Duke replied that he had heard there was an island where the rulers of Berne sent quarrelsome husbands and wives; when a boat returned for them a month later, it found the couple cooing like a pair of turtle doves. ‘I should like to tie our rival religionists up in bundles and pack them off to that isle, hoping for the same result,’ concluded his lordship, laughing.