“I know ... I know ... I was irritated to death by your resignation! And even--since you insist--I must admit, my dear Anthime, that it seemed to me a proof of pride rather than sanctity, and the last time I saw you at Milan that exaggerated resignation of yours struck me really as savouring more of rebellion than of true piety, and was extremely distasteful to me as a Christian. God didn’t demand as much of you as all that! To speak frankly, I was shocked by your attitude.” “And I, my dear brother--perhaps I too may be allowed to say so now--was grieved by yours. Wasn’t it you yourself who urged me to rebel and....” Julius, who was getting heated, interrupted him: “My own experience has sufficiently proved to myself--and to others--during the whole course of my career, that it is perfectly possible to be an excellent Christian, without disdaining the legitimate advantages of the state of life to which it pleases God to call us. The fault that I found with your attitude was precisely that its affectation seemed to give it an appearance of superiority over mine.” “God is my witness that....” “Oh, don’t go on calling God to witness!” interrupted Julius again. “God has nothing to do with it. I am merely explaining that when I say that your attitude was almost one of rebellion ... I mean what would be rebellion for me; and what I find fault with is precisely that while you get credit for submitting to injustice, you leave other people to rebel for you. As for me, I wouldn’t accept the Church’s being in the wrong; while you with your air of not letting butter melt in your mouth, really _put_ her in the wrong. So I made up my mind to complain in your stead. You’ll see in a moment how right I was to be indignant.” Julius, on whose forehead the beads of perspiration were beginning to gather, put his top-hat on his knee. “Wouldn’t you like a little air?” asked Anthime, as he obligingly lowered the window on his side. “So,” went on Julius, “as soon as I got to Rome, I solicited an audience. It was granted. This step of mine met with the most singular success....” “Ah!” said Anthime indifferently. “Yes, my dear Anthime, for though in reality I obtained nothing of what I came to ask, at any rate I brought away from my visit an assurance which ... effectually cleared our Holy Father from all the injurious suppositions we had been making about him.” “God is my witness that I never made any injurious suppositions about our Holy Father.” “I made them for you. I saw you wronged. I was indignant.” “Come to the point, Julius. Did you see the Pope?”