and more secure than thought; Caponsacchi wavers in his thinking, falls
back upon the narrower conception of priesthood, persuades himself that
his duty is to serve God:--

"Duty to God is duty to her: I think
God, who created her, will save her too
Some new way, by one miracle the more,
Without me."

But when once again he is confronted with the strange sad face, and
hears once more the pitiful appeal, all hesitations vanish, and he sees
no duty

"Like daring try be good and true myself,
Leaving the shows of things to the Lord of Show."

With the security of perfect innocence he flings at his judges as "the
final fact"--

"In contempt for all misapprehending ignorance
Of the human heart, much more the mind of Christ,--
That I assuredly did bow, was blessed
By the revelation of Pompilia."

Thus, through all the psychologic subtlety of the portrait the
groundwork of spiritual romance subsists. The militant saint of legend
reappears, in the mould and garb of the modern world, subject to all its
hampering conditions, and compelled to make his way over the corpses,
not of lions and dragons only, but of consecrated duties and treasured
instincts. And the matter-of-course chivalry of professed knighthood is