But the Catholic Church will have to choose between securing our forgiveness and retaining her infallibility. If she should repent of a single act ever committed by her officially, she would lose her claim to infallibility--for how can the infallible err? If, on the other hand, she should hold to her infallibility, how can she be sorry for anything she has ever done? If I had any influence with the Catholics I would advise them to sacrifice infallibility for the respect of humanity. It is much more divine to say, "I am sorry," than to say, "I am infallible." But the Catholic Church will not take my advice. The shrine of Joan in the Paris church is almost as eloquent as her stake in Rouen. I have seen them both--that is to say, I have seen the spot on which she was consumed, marked by a white slab; and I have seen the marble figure of Joan, as a girl, in the attitude of prayer, now in the Church of the Sacred Heart in Paris. As I stood at her shrine in this great white church it seemed to me that, even though Joan of Arc has, at last been made a saint, there was still a prejudice against her on the part of the people, as well as of the priests. This is only an impression, and I hope I am mistaken. But let me present the evidence on which I base my misgivings: In the first place, Joan is not given the preference in the shrine set apart for her. St. Michael, whoever he might be, occupies the whole front of the altar, and only on the windows and the side walls do we find any mention of Joan and the events of her heroic career. There is also, at one end of the enclosure, as intimated before, a small marble figure of Joan on her knees. Why does St. Michael usurp the place of honor over the altar? Who is he? What has he done for France? In the second place, there was not a single lighted candle at her shrine. St. Mary's altar, a little distance off, was ablaze. St. Joseph's, too, was honored by lighted candles. But no one was on her knees and no flame twinkled before the sainted Joan of Arc. They say that it is almost impossible to outlive the charge of heresy. In former times, quite frequently, even heretics who repented of their heresies were put to death, nevertheless. To have ever been accused, even, or suspected of heresy, is an unpardonable crime. Joan was suspected, at least, of rebellion against Rome, and it seemed to me, as I reflected upon what I observed in the church, that the Catholics had canonized this village maid reluctantly, and only under pressure, and after five hundred years of dillydallying.