They possess humility, which is the cornerstone of virtues agreeable to heaven.  A short repentance will be sufficient for them to be the first in heaven; for their sins, without malice and without joy, contain their own forgiveness.  Their faults, which are pains, participate in the merits attached to pain; slaves to brutal passion, they are deprived of all voluptuousness, and in this they are like the men who practise continence for the kingdom of God.  They are like us, culprits; but shame falls on their crime like a balm, suffering purifies it like fire.  That is the reason why God will listen to the first voice which they shall send to him.  A throne is prepared for them at the right hand of the Father.  In the kingdom of God, the queen and the empress will be happy to sit at the feet of the unfortunate; for you must not think that the celestial house is built on a human plan.  Far from it, Madame.”

Nevertheless, he conceded that more than one road led to salvation.  One could follow the road of love.

“Man’s love is earthly,” he said, “but it rises by painful degrees, and finally leads to God.”

The Prince had risen.  Kissing Miss Bell’s hand, he said: 

“Saturday.”

“Yes, the day after to-morrow, Saturday,” replied Vivian.

Therese started.  Saturday!  They were talking of Saturday quietly, as of an ordinary day.  Until then she had not wished to think that Saturday would come so soon or so naturally.

The guests had been gone for half an hour.  Therese, tired, was thinking in her bed, when she heard a knock at the door of her room.  The panel opened, and Vivian’s little head appeared.

“I am not intruding, darling?  You are not sleepy?”

No, Therese had no desire to sleep.  She rose on her elbow.  Vivian sat on the bed, so light that she made no impression on it.

“Darling, I am sure you have a great deal of reason.  Oh, I am sure of it.  You are reasonable in the same way that Monsieur Sadler is a violinist.  He plays a little out of tune when he wishes.  And you, too, when you are not quite logical, it is for your own pleasure.  Oh, darling, you have a great deal of reason and of judgment, and I come to ask your advice.”

Astonished, and a little anxious, Therese denied that she was logical.  She denied this very sincerely.  But Vivian would not listen to her.

“I have read Francois Rabelais a great deal, my love.  It is in Rabelais and in Villon that I studied French.  They are good old masters of language.  But, darling, do you know the ‘Pantagruel?’ ‘Pantagruel’ is like a beautiful and noble city, full of palaces, in the resplendent dawn, before the street-sweepers of Paris have come.  The sweepers have not taken out the dirt, and the maids have not washed the marble steps.  And I have seen that French women do not read the ‘Pantagruel.’  You do not know it?  Well, it is not necessary.  In the ‘Pantagruel,’ Panurge asks whether he must marry, and he covers himself with ridicule, my love.  Well, I am quite as laughable as he, since I am asking the same question of you.”