for inaugurating the Millenium. I did remind Brother Cyril, by the way, of
this last point, and he did need it; but it did him no good, for here we are at
the threshold of a Great Experiment on yet another false track!"
"He is only taunting me to put me on my mettle," laughed Cyril.
"Now I'm going to bring all this to a point," went on the old mystic. "The
Greeks, as you know, practised a kind of eugenics. (Of course, all tribal
marriage laws are primarily eugenic in intention). But like the mediaeval
magicians we were speaking of, with their Homunculus, the Greeks attached
the greatest possible importance to the condition of the mother during
gestation. She was encouraged to look only on beautiful statues, to read only
[109] beautiful books. The Mohammedans, again,  whose marriage system
makes Christian marriage by comparison a thing for cattle, shut up a woman
during that period, keep her perfectly quiet and free from the interference of
her husband.
"This is all very good, but it falls short of Brother Cyril's latest lunacy. As I
understand him, he wishes indeed to proceed normally in a physical sense,
but to prepare the way by making the heredity, and environment as attractive
as possible to one special type of soul, and then — to go soul-fishing in the
Fourth Dimension!
"Thus he will have a perfectly normal child, which yet is also a
Homunculus in the mediaeval sense of the word!
"And he has asked me to lend you the villa of the Order at Naples for the
purpose."
Lisa had lent forward; her face, between her hands was burning.
Slowly she spoke: "You know that you are asking me to sacrifice my
humanity?" She was not silly enough to pretend to misunderstand the
proposal and Simon liked her better for the way she took it.
He thought a moment. "I see now; I never thought of it before, and I am
foolish, The conservatism of woman calls this sort of thing a 'heartless
experiment.' Yet nothing is farther from our thoughts. There will be no action
to annoy or offend you on the contrary. But I understand the feeling — it is
the swift natural repugnance to discuss what is sacred."
"Tut—tut—my memory is always failing me these days," muttered Cyril;
"I've quite forgotten the percentage of children that were born blind in 1861."
Lisa started to her feet. She did not know what he meant, but in some way
it stung her like a serpent. [110]
Simon Iff intervened. "Brother Cyril, you always use strong medicine!" he