Part 48 (1/2)
Francesca looked up with a startled expression in her eyes, for she was shocked, though she did not understand him.
”G.o.d is good, and man is sinful,” she answered, in the words of her simple faith.
”Why?” asked Griggs, gravely.
He waited for her answer to the most tremendous question which man can ask, and he knew that she could not answer him, though she might satisfy herself.
”I have never talked about religion with an atheist,” she said at last, slowly pus.h.i.+ng her needle through the heavy satin.
”I am not an atheist, Princess.”
”A Protestant, then--”
”I am not a Protestant. I am a Catholic, as you are.”
She looked up suddenly and faced him with earnest eyes.
”Then you are not a good Catholic,” she said. ”No good Catholic could speak as you do.”
”Even the Apostles had doubts,” answered Griggs. ”But I do not pretend to be good. Since I am a man, I have a right to be a man, and to be treated as a man. If the right is not given me freely, I will take it.
You cannot expect a body to behave as though it were a spirit. A man cannot imitate an invisible essence, any more than a sculptor can imitate sound with a shape of clay. When we are spirits, we shall act as spirits. Meanwhile we are men and women. As a man, I have not done wrong. You have no right to judge me as an angel. Is that clear?”
”Terribly clear!” Francesca slowly shook her head. ”And terribly mistaken,” she added.
”You see,” answered the young man. ”It is impossible to argue the point.
We do not speak the same language. You, by your nature, believe that you can imitate a spirit. You are spiritual by intuition and good by instinct, according to the spiritual standard of good. I am, on the contrary, a normal man, and destined to act as men act. I cannot understand you and you, if you will allow me to say so, cannot possibly understand me. That is why I propose that we should agree to differ.”
”And do you think you can sweep away all right and wrong, belief and unbelief, salvation and perdition, with such a statement as that?”
”Not at all,” replied Griggs. ”You tell me that I am wicked. That only means that I am not doing what you consider right. You deny my right of judgment, in favour of your own. You make witnesses of spirits against the doings of men. You judge my body and condemn my soul. And there is no possible appeal from your tribunal, because it is an imaginary one.
But if you will return to the facts of the case, you will find it hard to prove that I have ruined the life of an innocent woman, as you told me that I had.”
”You have! There is no denying it.”
”Socially, and it is the fault of society. But society is nothing to me.
I would be an outcast from society for a much less object than the love of a woman, provided that I had not to do anything dishonourable.”
”Ah, that is it! You forget that a man's honour is his reputation at the club, while the honour of a woman is founded in religion, and maintained upon a single one of G.o.d's commandments--as you men demand that it shall be.”
Griggs was silent for a moment. He had never heard a woman state the case so plainly and forcibly, and he was struck by what she said. He could have answered her quickly enough. But the answer would not have been satisfactory to himself.
”You see, you have nothing to say,” she said. ”But in one way you are right. We cannot argue this question. I did not ask you to come in order to discuss it. I sent for you to beg you to do what is right, as far as you can. And you could do much.”
”What should you think right?” asked Griggs, curious to know what she thought.
”You should take Gloria to her father, as you are his friend. Since she has left her husband, she should live with her father.”
”That is a very simple idea!” exclaimed the young man, with something almost like a laugh.