"
"I daresay they don't. But they profess to reproach themselves for not
doing so. And this is more contemptible. It adds insincerity to
imbecility."
A sunny smile played about his face as he spoke these words. It was
evident that his thoughts were already far away. The bishop, following
the direction of his glance, saw that it rested upon the statuette of
the Faun whose head and shoulders were now enveloped in a warm beam of
light. Under that genial touch the old relic seemed to have woke up
from its slumber. Blood was throbbing in its veins. It was inn
movement; it dominated the scene in its emphatic affirmation of joy.
Mr. Heard, his eyes fixed upon the statuette, now realized the
significance of what had been said. He began to see more clearly. Soon
it dawned upon him that not joy alone was expressed by the figure.
Another quality, more evasive yet more compelling, resided in its
subtle grace: the element of mystery. There, emprisoned in the bronze,
dwelt some benignant oracle.
Puzzle as he would, that oracle refused to clothe itself in words.
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