anations."

The zoologist paused and went on:

"Twice two's four, and a stone's a stone. Here to-morrow we have a
duel. You and I will say it's stupid and absurd, that the duel is
out of date, that there is no real difference between the aristocratic
duel and the drunken brawl in the pot-house, and yet we shall not
stop, we shall go there and fight. So there is some force stronger
than our reasoning. We shout that war is plunder, robbery, atrocity,
fratricide; we cannot look upon blood without fainting; but the
French or the Germans have only to insult us for us to feel at once
an exaltation of spirit; in the most genuine way we shout 'Hurrah!'
and rush to attack the foe. You will invoke the blessing of God on
our weapons, and our valour will arouse universal and general
enthusiasm. Again it follows that there is a force, if not higher,
at any rate stronger, than us and our philosophy. We can no more
stop it than that cloud which is moving upwards over the sea. Don't
be hypocritical, don't make a long nose at it on the sly; and don't
say, 'Ah, old-fashioned, stupid! Ah, it's inconsistent with Scripture!'
but look it straight in the face, recognise its rational lawfulness,
and when, for instance, it wants to destroy a rotten, scrofulous,
corrupt race, don't hinder it with your pilules and misunderstood
quotations from the Gospel. Leskov has a story of a conscientious
Danila who found a leper outside the town, and fed and warmed him
in the name of love and of Christ. If that Danila had really loved
humanity, he would have dragged the leper as far as possible from
the town, and would have flung him in a pit, and would have gone
to save the healthy. Christ, I hope, taught us a rational, intelligent,
practical love."

"What a fellow you are!" laughed the deacon. "You don't believe in
Christ. Why do you mention His name so often?"

"Yes, I do believe in Him. Only, of course, in my own way, not in
yours. Oh, deacon, deacon!" laughed the zoologist; he put his arm
round the deacon's waist, and said gaily: "Well? Are you coming
with us to the duel to-morrow?"

"My orders don't allow it, or else I should come."

"What do you mean by 'orders'?"

"I have been consecrated. I am in a state of grace."

"Oh, deacon, deacon," repeated Von Koren, laughing, "I love talking
to you."

"You say you have faith," said the deacon. "What sort of faith is
it? Why, I have an uncle, a priest, and he believes so that when
in time of drou