secluded from argument and opposition; as nothing is healthier than to
be obliged to find good reasons for one's beliefs on pain of
surrendering them."

"But," said Odo, struck with this declaration, "to a man of your cloth
there is one belief which never surrenders to reason."

The other smiled. "True," he agreed; "but I often marvel to see how
little our opponents know of that belief. The wisest of them seem in the
case of those children at our country fairs who gape at the incredible
things depicted on the curtains of the booths, without asking themselves
whether the reality matches its presentment. The weakness of human
nature has compelled us to paint the outer curtain of the sanctuary in
gaudy colours, and the malicious fancy of our enemies has given a
monstrous outline to these pictures; but what are such vanities to one
who has passed beyond, and beheld the beauty of the King's daughter, all
glorious within?"

As though unwilling to linger on such grave topics, he turned the talk
to the scene at their feet, questioning Odo as to the impression Naples
had made on him. He listened courteously to the young man's comments on
the wretched state of the peasantry, the extravagances of the court and
nobility and the judicial corruption which made the lower classes submit
to any injustice rather than seek redress through the courts. De Crucis
agreed with him in the main, admitting that the monopoly of corn, the
maintenance of feudal rights and the King's indifference to the graver
duties of his rank placed the kingdom of Naples far below such states as
Tuscany or Venetia; "though," he added, "I think our economists, in
praising one state at the expense of another, too often overlook those
differences of character and climate that must ever make it impossible