..."
"Yes, the light will dawn," said Madame Froment; she was sitting on
the foot of the bed in the dark near Clerambault; he leaned forward
and took her hand. It was as if a thrill widened through the room,
like a ripple over water.
"Why do you say that?" asked the Count de Coulanges.
"Because I see _Him_ plainly."
"I can see _Him_ too," said Clerambault.
"Him? Whom do you mean?" asked Doctor Verrier. But before the answer
could come, they all knew the word that would be said:
"He who bears the light, the God who will conquer...."
"Are you waiting for a God?" said the old professor. "Do you believe
in miracles?"
"We are the miracle, for is it not one that in this world of perpetual
violence we have kept a constant faith in the love and the union of
men?"
"Christ is expected for centuries," said Coulanges bitterly, "and when
He comes, He is neglected, crucified, and then forgotten except by a
handful of poor ignorant wretches, good if you like, but narrow. The
handful grows larger, and for the space of a man's life, faith is
in flower, but afterwards it is spoiled and betrayed by success,
by ambitious disciples, by the Church; and so on for centuries ...
_Adveniat regnum tuum_ ... Where is the kingdom of God?"
"Within us," said Clerambault, "our trials and our hopes all go to
form the eternal Christ.
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