Grace

`Is that so?' asked Mr M'Coy.

`That's a fact,' said Mr Cu

`Look at their church, too,' said Mr Power. `Look at the congregation they have.'

`The Jesuits cater for the upper classes,' said Mr M'Coy.

`Of course,' said Mr Power.

`Yes,' said Mr Kernan. `That's why I have a feeling for them. It's some of those secular priests, ignorant, bumptious—'

`They're all good men,' said Mr Cu

`O yes,' said Mr Power.

`Not like some of the other priesthoods on the Continent, said Mr M`Coy, `unworthy of the name. '

`Perhaps you're right,' said Mr Kernan, relenting.

`Of course I'm right,' said Mr Cu

The gentlemen drank again, one following another's example. Mr Kernan seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He was impressed. He had a high opinion of Mr Cu

`O, it's just a retreat, you know,' said Mr Cu

`He won't be too hard on us, Tom,' said Mr Power persuasively.

`Father Purdon? Father Purdon?' said the invalid.

`O, you must know him, Tom,' said Mr Cu

`Ah... yes. I think I know him. Rather red face; tall.'

`That's the man.'

`And tell me, Martin... Is he a good preacher?'

`Mu

Mr Kernan deliberated. Mr M'Coy said:

`Father Tom Burke, that was the boy!'

`O, Father Tom Burke,' said Mr Cu

`Did I ever hear him!' said the invalid, nettled. `Rather! I heard him... '

`And yet they say he wasn't much of a theologian,' said Mr Cu

`Is that so?' said Mr M'Coy.

`O, of course, nothing wrong, you know. Only sometimes, they say, he didn't preach what was quite orthodox.'

`Ah!... he was a splendid man,' said Mr M'Coy.

`I heard him once,' Mr Kernan continued. `I forget the subject of his discourse now. Crofton and I were in the back of the... pit, you know... the—'

`The body,' said Mr Cu

`Yes, in the back near the door. I forgot now what... O yes, it was on the Pope, the late Pope. I remember it well. Upon my word it was magnificent, the style of the oratory. And his voice! God! hadn't he a voice! The Prisoner of the Vatican, he called him. I remember Crofton saying to me when we came out—'

`But he's an Orangeman, Crofton, isn't he?' said Mr Power.

`'Course he is,' said Mr Kernan, `and a damned decent Orangeman, too. We went into Butler's in Moore Street faith, I was genuinely moved, tell you the God's truth — and I remember well his very words. Kernan, he said, we worship at different altars, he said, but our belief is the same. Struck me as very well put.'

`There's a good deal in that,' said Mr Power. `There used always be crowds of Protestants in the chapel where Father Tom was preaching.'

`There's not much difference between us,' said Mr M'Coy. `We both believe in—'

He hesitated for a moment.

`... in the Redeemer. Only they don't believe in the Pope and in the mother of God.'

`But, of course,' said Mr Cu

`Not a doubt of it,' said Mr Kernan warmly.

Mrs Kernan came to the door of the bedroom and a

`Here's a visitor for you!'

`Who is it?'

`Mr Fogarty.'

`O, come in! come in!'

A pale, oval face came forward into the light. The arch of its fair trailing moustache was repeated in the fair eyebrows looped above pleasantly astonished eyes. Mr Fogarty was a modest grocer. He had failed in business in a licensed house in the city because his financial condition had constrained him to tie himself to second-class distillers and brewers. He had opened a small shop on Glasnevin Road where, he flattered himself, his ma

Mr Fogarty brought a gift with him, a half-pint of special whisky. He inquired politely for Mr Kernan, placed his gift on the table and sat down with the company on equal terms. Mr Kernan appreciated the gift all the more since he was aware that there was a small account for groceries unsettled between him and Mr Fogarty. He said:

`I wouldn't doubt you, old man. Open that, Jack, will you?'

Mr Power again officiated. Glasses were rinsed and five small measures of whisky were poured out. This new influence enlivened the conversation. Mr Fogarty, sitting on a small area of the chair, was specially interested.

`Pope Leo XIII,' said Mr Cu

`I often heard he was one of the most intellectual men in Europe,' said Mr Power. `I mean, apart from his being Pope.'

`So he was,' said Mr Cu

`No, no,' said Mr Fogarty eagerly. `I think you're wrong there. It was Lux in Tenebris, I think — Light in Darkness.'

`O yes,' said Mr M'Coy, `Tenebrae.'

`Allow me,' said Mr Cu

The inference was allowed. Mr Cu

`Pope Leo, you know, was a great scholar and a poet.'

`He had a strong face,' said Mr Kernan.

`Yes,' said Mr Cu

`Is that so?' said Mr Fogarty.

Mr M'Coy tasted his whisky contentedly and shook his head with a double intention, saying:

`That's no joke, I can tell you.'

`We didn't learn that, Tom,' said Mr Power, following Mr M'Coy's example, `when we went to the pe

`There was many a good man went to the pe

`Quite right,' said Mr Power.

`No superfluities,' said Mr Fogarty.

He enunciated the word and then drank gravely.

`I remember reading,' said Mr Cu

`On the photograph!' exclaimed Mr Kernan.

`Yes,' said Mr Cu

He also drank from his glass.

`Well, you know,' said Mr M'Coy, `isn't the photograph wonderful when you come to think of it?'

`O, of course,' said Mr Power, `great minds can see things.'

`As the poet says: Great minds are very near to madness,' said Mr Fogarty.

Mr Kernan seemed to be troubled in mind. He made an effort to recall the Protestant theology on some thorny points and in the end addressed Mr Cu

`Tell me, Martin,' he said. `Weren't some of the Popes — of course, not our present man, or his predecessor, but some of the old Popes — not exactly... you know... up to the knocker?'

There was a silence. Mr Cu

`O, of course, there were some bad lots... But the astonishing thing is this. Not one of them, not the biggest drunkard, not the most... out-and-out ruffian, not one of them ever preached ex cathedra a word of false doctrine. Now isn't that an astonishing thing?'