do no more, you have only to
live, to live in your own old, sweet way, and so in time, death, which
is of man's common lot and with God's sanction, shall make you like to
him. This must not be! We have sworn together that it must not.
Thus are we ministers of God's own wish. That the world, and men for
whom His Son die, will not be given over to monsters, whose very
existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to redeem one soul
already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross to redeem
more. Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise. And like them,
if we fall, we fall in good cause."

He paused and I said, "But will not the Count take his rebuff wisely?
Since he has been driven from England, will he not avoid it, as a
tiger does the village from which he has been hunted?"

"Aha!" he said, "your simile of the tiger good, for me, and I shall
adopt him. Your maneater, as they of India call the tiger who has
once tasted blood of the human, care no more for the other prey, but
prowl unceasing till he get him. This that we hunt from our village
is a tiger, too, a maneater, and he never cease to prowl. Nay, in
himself he is not one to retire and stay afar. In his life, his
living life, he go over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on
his own ground. He be beaten back, but did he stay? No! He come
again, and again, and again. Look at his persistence and endurance.
With the child-brain that was to him he have long since conceive the
idea of coming to a great city. What does he do? He find out the
place of all the world most of promise for him. Then he deliberately
set himself down to prepare for the task. He find in patience just
how is his strength, and what are his powers. He study new tongues.
He learn new social life, new environment of old ways, the politics,
the law, the finance, the science, the habit of a new land and a new
people who have come to be since he was. His glimpse that he have
had, whet his appetite only and enkeen his desire. Nay, it help him
to grow as to his brain. For it all prove to him how right he was at
the first in his surmises. He have done this alone, all alone! From
a ruin tomb in a forgotten land. What more may he not do when the
greater world of thought is open to him. He that can smile at death,
as we know him. Who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill
off whole peoples. Oh! If such an one was to come from God, and not
the Devil, what