his right mind once more, he was asked whether he felt the heat of the water during the ordeal. He replied that sometimes he did and sometimes he did not; in this instance he said he had felt nothing. He was a frail-looking youth, of ecstatic eye, evidently a good "subject," though still in the early stages of his novitiate. The head priest, a much stronger man, and an adept, said he always felt the water, but not the heat of it an interesting distinction.
Here came in the importance of my dabble in the basin. Though it had been but to the extent of a little finger,—and that by religious permission,—it had, it appeared, partially spoiled the miracle on that side of the caldron, preventing the water there from becoming as cold as elsewhere. For the acolyte averred that he had perceived a difference between the two. But he had just said that he had not felt the heat of any part of it. He had therefore detected a distinction without a difference, a degree of divinity quite transcending the simply not feeling at all. Yet he was unconscious at the time, and conscientious afterward. By partially spoiling the miracle, then, it would seem that I had considerably improved it.
