Either we are Christians, who are prepared to protect the sacraments, or we're not."
"Perhaps we're not. Perhaps that's what you're not willing to face. That you're swimming against the current."
"So I should just give up? Is that what you mean? Give up and let Bleeker continue his vile game until he wins it?"
"You don't show much confidence in Annie."
"How can I have confidence in a young woman who is bored with her home life and has nothing else to distract her? I'd be a fool, Rosalie!"
But she was determined not to let him escape her, as he so often had, with emotional formulas. "What I think I mean is this," she said firmly. "I have a theory that men, like women, have been basically the same through history. The majority, that is. The average Roman, the average Greek, wasn't he pretty much like the average American today? What makes one era different from another is its dogma, not its people. And isn't its dogma always made up by the small, busy group we call priests?"
He stared. "And I'm a priest? Is that what you're getting at?"
It occurred to her that he did not altogether object to the idea. "Yes. A priest doesn't have to be a clergyman. He's simply a person in charge of the mysteries. Whether they're religious or political or what have you. His job is to keep the others in line. He has to use prayers and miracles and magic." She paused now, watching him carefully. "He may even have to fake them. He may even have to use..." Again she stopped. She had never gone so far with Dexter. Could one go too far with Dexter? What would happen?
"May have to use what?" he demanded. "Force? Torture? Autos-da-fe? Go ahead, Rosalie. Say it. You think I'm treating Bleeker the way the Inquisition treated heretics!"
"Yes, I do! That's just it. That's just exactly it."
He laughed. So that was what happened. "Well, you'll be relieved to learn I'm not planning to burn him. Though I'm not at all sure I wouldn't if I could!"
Rosalie picked up her newspaper to hide what was almost embarrassment. She remembered with a faint shudder her image of the Mayan on the pyramid with the obsidian knife.
10
R OSALIE AND D EXTER were lunching at her father's, as they did every Sunday after church. As they came in, she watched her husband's eyes scan the little group assembled in the front parlor, all standing, as if to avoid the uninviting, tall-backed Italianate chairs of black walnut. She knew he was looking to see if Annie was there. Joanna had told her at church that Annie was professing a cold, but she had not told Dexter. He made no effort to conceal his disappointment, because he did not know that she was watching him.
"I suppose Annie's cold is diplomatic," she said to Joanna. "Too much family here today."
"She's had rather a nasty row with Father. About Jules coming here while I was in Boston."
"I thought Dexter had that all under control."
"But you know Annie. Just because a matter seems to be settled is no reason not to make a scene. I wish she wouldn't, because Father takes it out on me." Joanna burst into one of her high nervous giggles. "He practically accused me of running a disorderly house!"
Rosalie regarded her sister with faint surprise. It was not like Joanna to use such a term. She seemed to be trying to demonstrate a sudden, rather febrile independence.
"Well, Mr. Bleeker has certainly given us all something to talk about."
"Father treats me like a child," Joanna continued petulantly. "One of these days he may find out that I'm older than he reckons."
"Who is that minister he's talking to?"
Dexter, coming up to them, heard the question. "Don't you know him? That's Francis Halsted. The author of
American Slavery Justified by Natural Law.
"
"That horrible man!" Rosalie exclaimed in disgust. "How
can
Father! Is there no limit to his cosmopolitanism?"
"It's an interesting book, darling. You should read it before you condemn it. Halsted maintains that slavery is a natural step in the evolution of a race. He puts it
"Perhaps we're not. Perhaps that's what you're not willing to face. That you're swimming against the current."
"So I should just give up? Is that what you mean? Give up and let Bleeker continue his vile game until he wins it?"
"You don't show much confidence in Annie."
"How can I have confidence in a young woman who is bored with her home life and has nothing else to distract her? I'd be a fool, Rosalie!"
But she was determined not to let him escape her, as he so often had, with emotional formulas. "What I think I mean is this," she said firmly. "I have a theory that men, like women, have been basically the same through history. The majority, that is. The average Roman, the average Greek, wasn't he pretty much like the average American today? What makes one era different from another is its dogma, not its people. And isn't its dogma always made up by the small, busy group we call priests?"
He stared. "And I'm a priest? Is that what you're getting at?"
It occurred to her that he did not altogether object to the idea. "Yes. A priest doesn't have to be a clergyman. He's simply a person in charge of the mysteries. Whether they're religious or political or what have you. His job is to keep the others in line. He has to use prayers and miracles and magic." She paused now, watching him carefully. "He may even have to fake them. He may even have to use..." Again she stopped. She had never gone so far with Dexter. Could one go too far with Dexter? What would happen?
"May have to use what?" he demanded. "Force? Torture? Autos-da-fe? Go ahead, Rosalie. Say it. You think I'm treating Bleeker the way the Inquisition treated heretics!"
"Yes, I do! That's just it. That's just exactly it."
He laughed. So that was what happened. "Well, you'll be relieved to learn I'm not planning to burn him. Though I'm not at all sure I wouldn't if I could!"
Rosalie picked up her newspaper to hide what was almost embarrassment. She remembered with a faint shudder her image of the Mayan on the pyramid with the obsidian knife.
10
R OSALIE AND D EXTER were lunching at her father's, as they did every Sunday after church. As they came in, she watched her husband's eyes scan the little group assembled in the front parlor, all standing, as if to avoid the uninviting, tall-backed Italianate chairs of black walnut. She knew he was looking to see if Annie was there. Joanna had told her at church that Annie was professing a cold, but she had not told Dexter. He made no effort to conceal his disappointment, because he did not know that she was watching him.
"I suppose Annie's cold is diplomatic," she said to Joanna. "Too much family here today."
"She's had rather a nasty row with Father. About Jules coming here while I was in Boston."
"I thought Dexter had that all under control."
"But you know Annie. Just because a matter seems to be settled is no reason not to make a scene. I wish she wouldn't, because Father takes it out on me." Joanna burst into one of her high nervous giggles. "He practically accused me of running a disorderly house!"
Rosalie regarded her sister with faint surprise. It was not like Joanna to use such a term. She seemed to be trying to demonstrate a sudden, rather febrile independence.
"Well, Mr. Bleeker has certainly given us all something to talk about."
"Father treats me like a child," Joanna continued petulantly. "One of these days he may find out that I'm older than he reckons."
"Who is that minister he's talking to?"
Dexter, coming up to them, heard the question. "Don't you know him? That's Francis Halsted. The author of
American Slavery Justified by Natural Law.
"
"That horrible man!" Rosalie exclaimed in disgust. "How
can
Father! Is there no limit to his cosmopolitanism?"
"It's an interesting book, darling. You should read it before you condemn it. Halsted maintains that slavery is a natural step in the evolution of a race. He puts it
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