“Say thou, good Christian, declare thyself; Faith,—what is it?” Whereon I raised my brow to that light whence this was breathed out. Then I turned to Beatrice, and she made prompt signals to me that I should pour the water forth from my internal fount. “May the Grace,” began I, “which grants to me that I confess myself to the high captain, cause my conceptions to be expressed.”[1] And I went on, “As the veracious pen, Father, of thy dear brother (who with thee set Rome on the good track) wrote of it, Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and evidence of things not seen:[2] and this appears to me its essence.” Then I heard, “Rightly dost thou think, if thou understandest well why he placed it among the substances, and then among the evidences.” And I thereon: “The deep things which grant unto me here the sight of themselves, are so hidden to eyes below that there their existence is in belief alone, upon which the high hope is founded, and therefore it takes the designation of substance; and from this belief we needs must syllogize, without having other sight, wherefore it receives the designation of evidence.”[3] Then I heard, “If whatever is acquired below for doctrine, were so understood, the wit of sophist would have no place there.” Thus was breathed forth from that enkindled love; then it added, “Very well have the alloy and the weight of this coin been now run through, but tell me if thou hast it in thy purse?” And I, “Yes, I have it so shining and so round that in its stamp nothing is uncertain to me.” Then issued from the deep light which was shining there, “This precious jewel, whereon every virtue is founded, whence came it to thee?” And I, “The abundant rain of the Heavenly Spirit, which is diffused over the Old and over the New parchments, is a syllogism[4] which has proved it to me so acutely that in comparison with it every demonstration seems to me obtuse.” I heard then, “The Old and the New proposition[5] which are so conclusive to thee,—why dost thou hold them for divine speech?” And I, “The proofs which disclose the truth to me are the works[6] that followed, for which nature never heated iron, nor beat anvil.” It was replied to me, “Say, what assures thee that these works were? The very thing itself which requires to be proved, naught else, affirms it to thee.” “If the world were converted to Christianity,” said I, “without miracles, this alone is such that the others are not the hundredth part; for thou didst enter poor and fasting into the field to sow the good plant, which once was a vine and now has become a thornbush.” [1] May it enable me to express clearly my conceptions. [2] Hebrews, xi, 1.