"
The bishop remarked:
"What I have seen of the local Catholicism strikes me as a kind of
pantomime. That is the fault of my upbringing, no doubt."
"Oh, I am not referring to externals! Externally, of course, our Church
is the purest rococo--"
Mr. Heard was expanding in this congenial atmosphere; he felt himself
in touch with permanent things. He glanced at the speaker. How charming
he looked, this silvery-haired old aristocrat! His ample and gracious
personality, his leisurely discourse--how well they accorded with the
environment! He suggested, in manner, the secret of youth and all that
is glad, unclouded, eternal; he was a reflection, a belated flower, of
the classic splendour which lay in ruins about him. Such a man, he
thought, deserves to be happy and successful. What joy it must have
been to a person of his temperament--the chance discovery of the Locri
Faun!
A great stillness brooded upon the enclosure beyond. The shadows had
shifted. Sunny patches lay, distributed in fresh patterns, upon the old
brickwork flooring.
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