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Updated: May 5, 2025
I had come over the wooded wall from the villages about Epsom, and down a stumbling path between trees towards the valley in which Dorking lies. A warm sunlight was working its way through the leafage; a sunlight which though of saintless gold had taken on the quality of evening. It was such sunlight as reminds a man that the sun begins to set an instant after noon.
"Bless my soul!" commented the medical man. "But what is this head in gold beneath the guard?" "Saint Michael, the patron saint of duelists!" answered the count. "Patron!" exclaimed the doctor. "Well, all I have to say is, it is a saintless business for Michael." The count laughed and turned away with a business-like air. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"
In this particular case, however, I made no haste to seize upon the armour-man. Perhaps it was because I wanted a fresh saint of my own, not a stale saint that Edward had been for so long a time. Perhaps it was rather that, ever since I had elected to be saintless, I had got into the habit of strolling off into the background, and amusing myself with what I found there.
Every spirit is fallible but the spirit of saintless. The Church is infallible not by any talisman but by her saintliness. The Bishop of Rome or of Canterbury will be infallible only if they are saints. The saints are detached from everything and attached to Christ, so that Christ incarnates His spirit in them. Not we, but Christ in us, is infallible.
In this particular case, however, I made no haste to seize upon the armour-man. Perhaps it was because I wanted a FRESH saint of my own, not a stale saint that Edward had been for so long a time. Perhaps it was rather that, ever since I had elected to be saintless, I had got into the habit of strolling off into the background, and amusing myself with what I found there.
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