“Yes,” Janicot admitted, rather sadly, “I have been hoping, now for a great while, that men would find some god with whom a rational person might make terms, but that seems never to happen.” “Monsieur, monsieur!” cried Florian, “pray let us have no scepticism—!” “Scepticism also is a comfort denied to me. Men have that refuge always open. But I have in my time dealt at close grips with too many gods to have any doubt about them. No, I believe, and I shudder with distaste.” “Come, now, Monsieur Janicot, religion and somewhere to go on Sundays are quite necessary amenities—” Janicot was surprised. “Why, but, Monsieur the Duke, can it be true that you, as a person of refinement, approve of worshipping goats and crocodiles and hawks and cats and hippopotami after the Egyptian custom?” “Parbleu, not in the least! I, to the contrary—” “Oh, you admire, then, the monkeys and tigers, in whose honor the men of India build temples?” “Not at all. You misinterpret me—” “Ah, I perceive. You approve, instead, of those gods of Greece and Rome, who went about earth as bulls and cock cuckoos and as sprinklings of doubloons and five franc pieces, when they were particularly desirous of winning affection?” “Now, Monsieur Janicot, you very foolishly affect to misunderstand me. One should be logical in these grave matters. One should know, as the whole world knows, that the Dukes of Puysange care nothing for the silly fables of paganism, and that for five centuries we of Puysange have been notable and loyal Christians.” Janicot said: “For five whole centuries! Jahveh also, being so young a god, must think that a long while; and doubtless he feels honored by these five centuries of patronage.” “Well, of course,” said Florian, modestly, “as one of the oldest families hereabouts, we find that our example is apt to be followed. But we ourselves think little of our long lineage, we have grown used to it, we think that logically it is only the man himself who matters: and I confess, Monsieur Janicot, that it seems almost droll to see you impressed by our antiquity.” “I!” said Janicot. Then he said: “For all that, I am impressed. Yes, men are really wonderful. However, let that pass. So it is Jahveh of whom you approve. You confess it. Why, then, I ask you, as one logical person addressing another—” “A pest! logic is a fine thing, but let us not put these matters altogether upon the ground of logic,” said Florian, recoiling just perceptibly, as a large tumble-bug climbed on the rock, and sat beside Janicot. “—I ask you,” Janicot continued, “as one person of good taste addressing another—” “It is not wholly an affair of connoisseurs. Let us talk about something else.”