A God who made the world as he chose, in such a way that it must wag as it does, and then comes and tells us that we must make it wag in a different way--well now, you know! He is certainly not a reasonable God! You have taken the liberty to empty out a whole bagful of abuse, a bagful of accusations against statesmen; they are calumnies, especially if you apply them to that gentleman over there, or to me; but I am willing to admit that politics are not a suitable business for saints.

He who made the world did not intend that they should be! He is to blame for that.
Nevertheless, some one must attend to politics.

At present we are doing this, and if we ourselves be not saints, at least you see how patiently we deal with saints.

And listen," The Under-Secretary looked at his watch.
"It is getting late," he said, "and saintliness may encounter some dangers, at such a late hour, in the streets of Rome.

You had better go, now." He stretched out his hand towards the electric bell, meaning to summon the usher.
"_Signor Ministro!_" Benedetto exclaimed, with such vehemence that the Under-Secretary remained motionless, his arm extended, as though frozen in the act.