The child's great brave eyes considered the Apostle attentively: then they wandered to his sisters, to the governess, to the nurses; and came back again. Hadrian returned his gaze, very gently, quite inflexibly. The boy must learn his lesson now. Prince Filiberto pondered the novel doctrine from all his little points of view; and at last he grasped the consequence like a man.
"Ah well, then I suppose I had better keep it myself. I am sorry that I gave it to you, Missy, yesterday."
Hadrian experienced the strangest-possible rigour of the throat. Another moment and something in Him would have spoiled all. He rose: blessed His visitors; and passed swiftly away through the trees to the left.
"Missy, I am liking that white father. When shall I see Him again?" came after Him in the incomparable voice of innocence.
He quickly went up the winding path, along the private passage, up the stairs to the terrace. He dragged a chair out there and sat down. "God!" He exclaimed aloud, with tremendous expiration, to the wide expanse of water and earth and sky which yawned before Him. Tears welled in His eyes: and the constriction of His throat was relaxed. He took His handkerchief from His sleeve. Thank heaven He was alone! And He became calm and analytical and infinitely happy. Verses of Melagros of Gadara streamed through his mind:
"Our Lady of desire brought me to thee, Theokles,
"me to thee;
"and delicate-sandalled Love hath stripped and strewed me
"at thy feet:
"a lightning-flash of his sweet beauty!
"flames from his eyes he darteth!
"Hath Love revealed a Child who fighteth with thunderbolts?
"the splendour of twin fires did scorch me through and through:
"one flame indeed was from the sun, and one was love
"from a child's eyes."
His ecstasy was admiration of the lovely little person and the noble little soul. The clean and vivid candour, the delicate proportion, the pure tint, aroused in Him a desire to own. The frank self-hood, the unerring truth, the courageous tranquillity of self-renunciation, aroused in Him a sense of emulation. He, the Supreme Pontiff, was prostrate before the seraphic majesty of the Child. And, as though a curtain had been lifted, He had a peep into the human heart. Now, He thought that He could see and understand one cause, perhaps the chief cause, of human society—the ability to say "This is mine, mine: for I did it." He began to understand that the human mind must have external as well as internal operation—and much beside. As for Himself, He was making experiment of the first personal emotion of undiluted enjoyment of human society which He could remember. "Then I can love, after all;" He reflected. Though He mixed freely and absolutely independently with all men, yet, in the tender inner soul of Him, He shrank more shudderingly than ever from the contact. Every single act of urbanity, of courtesy, was a violent effort to Him. His feeling for His fellow-creatures was repugnance pure and simple. But, in the case of this yellow-haired mannikin, there was a difference. He would like to own such a radiant little piece of the Divine-Human as that fair Prince Filiberto. He would appreciate the honour and the joy of tending such a treasure. But He could not seek; and it never had been offered. Perhaps He would shrink if it were offered. That was His peculiar nature. Had He ever wished to exert for intimate relations with anyone? No: plainly no. He was a thing apart. More, He was a thing to be avoided. He remembered how many times he aimlessly had strolled through London, watching His species gambolling in Piccadilly, or at the Marble Arch on a Sunday where the fierce lanky spiky sallow Anarchist raved, and the coy Catholic barrister cracked correct jests out of a shiny black exercise-book, and the bright-eyed clean Church-Army youth spoke with genuine conviction. He had moved through partner-seeking mobs everywhere, lazily, vigilantly, studiously: yet no one ever had addressed him. He was seen. He was avoided. Yes, He was a thing apart. That was His trouble. And—what did the boy say?—"I had better keep it myself." The content of that saying was to Hadrian just like a thunderbolt. It was Love—yes, that was quintessential Love, from the clear eyes and the stainless lips of childhood,—to keep one's troubles oneself. For in that way one relieved others. And the Servant of the servants of God must—— He continued to sit in the sunlight in a sort of rapture. The lake and the hills and the turquoise sky faded from His vision. He was alone with His thoughts, His ideals, His soul.... After the noon-angelus, He went in to His solitary meal. Later in the afternoon, when He had slept and washed, and put on fresh garments, He descended to chat with His court. His demeanour was observed to be more warm, more human. His eyes had an unusual and more usual glow. He did not seem to be so very very far away.
"I guess the air of this village suits you, Holy Father," said young Cardinal Percy. "You look like twenty cents this evening."
"Yes, the air is delicious enough: but it is not the air." Hadrian narrated the incident of the morning, ending, "and We have recognised in Ourself a new and unknown power, a perfectly strange capability. We have made experience of a feeling which—well, which We suppose—at any rate will pass for—Love."