“Is it anything to do with magnetism?”

“They used to call it that, I think.  It’s got several names now.  All mental disturbance has, of course, a physical side to it, and that is how we are able to record it physically.  It was discovered by a monk, of course.”

“But . . . but it’s marvellous.”

“Everything is marvellous, Monsignor.  Certainly this, however, caused a revolution.  It became the symbol of the whole modern method of medicine.”

“What’s that?” The doctor laughed.

“That’s a large question,” he said.

“But . . .”

“Well, in a word, it’s the old system turned upside down.  A century ago when a man was ill they began by doctoring his body.  Now, when a man’s ill, they begin by doctoring his mind.  You see the mind is much more the man than the body is, as Theology always taught us.  Therefore by dealing with the mind——­”

“But that’s Christian Science!”

The doctor looked bewildered.

“It was an old heresy, doctor,” put in the Cardinal, smiling, “that denied the reality of matter.  No, Monsignor, we don’t deny the reality of matter.  It’s perfectly real.  Only, as the doctor says, we prefer to attack the real root of the disease, rather than its physical results.  We still use drugs; but only to remove painful symptoms.”

“That . . . that sounds all right,” stammered the man, bewildered by the simplicity of it.  “Then . . . then do you mean, your Eminence, that physical diseases are treated—–?”

“There are no physical diseases left,” put in the doctor.  “Of course there are accidents and external physical injuries; but practically all the rest have disappeared.  Very nearly all of them were carried by the blood, and, by dealing with this, the tissues are made immune.  Our discoveries also in the region of innervation——­”

“But . . . but . . . are there no diseases then?”

“Why, yes, Monsignor,” interrupted the Cardinal, with the patient air of one talking to a child, “there are hundreds of those; and they are very real indeed; but they are almost entirely mental—­or psychical, as some call them.  And there are specialists on all of these.  Bad habits of thought, for example, always set up some kind of disease; and there are hospitals for these; and even isolation homes.”

“Forgive me, your Eminence,” put in the doctor, with a certain imperiousness, “but I think we ought not to talk to Monsignor too much on this subject.  May I put a question or two?”

“I beg your pardon, doctor.  Certainly.  Put any question you wish.”

The doctor sat down again.

“Have you been in the habit of saying Mass every day, Monsignor?”

“I . . .  I don’t know,” said the invalid.

“Yes, doctor,” put in Father Jervis.

“And confession once a week?”

“Twice a week,” said Father Jervis.  “I am Monsignor’s confessor.”