He paused again, compressing his lips.  He was pale, and evidently holding himself hard in hand; but his eyes were bright and intelligent.  Then he abruptly began again.

“What’s wrong with you, Monsignor,” he said, “is that you don’t realize—­again, no doubt, owing to your loss of memory—­that you don’t realize that the only foundation of society at the present day is Catholicism.  You see we know now that Catholicism is true.  It has reasserted itself finally.  Every other scheme has been tried and has failed; and Catholicism, though it has never died, has once more been universally accepted.  Even heathen countries accept it de facto as the scheme on which the life of the human race is built.  Very well, then, the man who strikes at Catholicism strikes at society.  If he had his way society would crumble down again.  Then what can Catholic society do except defend itself, even by the death penalty?  Remember, the Church does not kill.  It never has; it never will.  It is society that puts to death.  And it is certainly true to say that theologians, as a whole, would undoubtedly abolish the death penalty to-morrow if they could.  It’s an open secret that the Holy Father would do away with it to-morrow if he could.”

“Then why doesn’t he?  Isn’t he supreme?” snapped the other bitterly.

“Indeed not.  Countries rule themselves.  He only has a veto if an actually unchristian law is passed.  And this is not actually unchristian.  It’s based on universal principles.”

“But——­”

“Wait an instant. . . .  Yes, the Church sanctions it in one sense.  So did the Church approve of the death penalty in the case of murder—­another sin against society.  Well, Christian society a hundred years ago inflicted death for the murder of the body; Christian society to-day inflicts death for a far greater crime against herself—­that is, murderous attacks against her own life-principle.”

“Then the old Protestants were right after all,” burst in Monsignor indignantly; “they said that Rome would persecute again if she could.”

“If she could?” said the monk questioningly.

“If she was strong enough.”

“No, no, no!” cried the other, beating his hand on the table in gentle impatience; “it would be hopelessly immoral for the Church to persecute simply because she was strong enough—­simply because she had a majority.  She never persecutes for mere opinions.  She has never claimed her right to use force.  But, as soon as a country is convincedly Catholic—­as soon, that is to say, as her civilization rests upon Catholicism and nothing else, that country has a perfect right to protect herself by the death penalty against those who menace her very existence as a civilized community.  And that is what heretics do; and that is what Socialists do.  Whether the authorities are right or wrong in any given instance is quite another question.  Innocent men have been hanged.  Orthodox Catholics have suffered unjustly.  Personally I believe that I myself am innocent; but I am quite clear that if I am a heretic” (he leaned forward again and spoke slowly), “if I am a heretic, I must be put to death by society.”