“Your Bacon’s Antichrist was a pretext for cultivating intellectual pride.” “A holy pretext.” “Nothing pretextual is holy. William, you know I love you. You know I have great faith in you. Mortify your intelligence, learn to weep over the wounds of the Lord, throw away your books.” “I will devote myself only to yours.” William smiled. Ubertino also smiled and waved a threatening finger at him. “Foolish Englishman. Do not laugh too much at your fellows. Those whom you cannot love you should, rather, fear. And be on your guard here at the abbey. I do not like this place.”
