"Thou hast disarranged _me_! I have learnt all my wisdom from watching spiders!" he said, smiling. "Nay, thou jestest." "In no wise. The spider and the fly--the whole of life is there. 'Tis through leaving them out that the theologies are so empty. Besides, who will now catch the flies for my microscope?" "I will not believe thou wouldst have the poor little flies caught by the great big spiders. Never did I understand what Pastor Cordes prated of turning the other cheek till I met thee." "Nay, 'tis not my doctrine. Mine is the worship of joy. I hold that the effort to preserve our being is virtue." "But thou goest to church sometimes?" "To hear a preacher." "A strange motive." She added musingly: "Christianity is not then true?" "Not true for me." "Then if thou canst not believe in it, I will not." Spinoza smiled tenderly. "Be guided by Dr. Cordes, not by me." The goodwife was puzzled. "Dost thou then think I can be saved in Dr. Cordes' doctrine?" she asked anxiously. "Yes, 'tis a very good doctrine, the Lutheran; doubt not thou wilt be saved in it, provided thou livest at peace with thy neighbors." Her face brightened. "Then I will be guided by thee." Spinoza smiled. Theology demanded perfect obedience, he thought, even as philosophy demanded perfect knowledge, and both alike were saving; for the believing mob, therefore, to which Religion meant subversion of Reason, speculative opinions were to be accounted pious or impious, not as they were true or false, but as they confirmed or shook the believer's obedience.