"Remember that ye only exist on sufferance. Dismiss delusions; and see yourselves as ye really are. Strip, man, strip. Search out your own weaknesses: lest, not the Father but, the Enemy discover the sores, and the diamonds, which ye are hiding. For ye do not merit the reputation, which is associated with your name, on the strength of which ye trade." The glossy black priest jerked to his feet: genuflected; and was backing from the white Presence. The Pontiff, whose mood had become quite pythian, stepped up to him, laying a firm hand on the bow of the ribbons of his ferraiuola. "Wince not, dear son. Three-fourths of you trade upon the reputation of your Company for cunning and learning. One-fourth of you is the Christians of the world. At least be frank with yourselves. Let us have more of the flower of your Christianity. Let us have less of your false pretences. Your erudition is showy enough. Oh yes. But it is so superficial. Your machinations are sly enough. Oh yes. But they are so silly. Ye are not geniuses. Ye are not monsters either of vice or of virtue: but only ridiculous mediocrities, always pitifully burrowing, burrowing like assiduous moles, always seeing your pains mis-spent, your elaborate schemes wrecked, except sometimes, when--to complete the metaphor--quite by accident, ye chance to kill a king. This is not to the Greater Glory of God. Then stop. Stop, here and now." They were by the door. The Black Pope had one hand under the blue-linen curtain, and was fumbling for the handle. The White Pope quickly clinched His admonition. "Don't pretend to be Superior Persons. Don't give yourselves such airs. Don't gad about in hansom cabs quite so much. Don't play billiards in public-houses. Don't nurture jackals. Try to be honest. Don't oppress the poor. Don't adore the rich. Don't cheat either. Tell the truth: or try to. Love all men, and learn to serve. And don't be vulgar." Father St. Albans had got the door open. He looked like a flat female with chlorosis. He was green and quite speechless. But he bowed profoundly as the decurial chamberlains came forward to escort him through the antechambers. "Benedicat te Omnipotens Deus.... Go in peace and pray for Us," purred the Supreme Pontiff, rubbing His left hand with His pocket handkerchief and returning to the window. CHAPTER XIV