re."

"Why do you say that the Church means nothing to me?" Guido asked.

"Since you are an atheist, what meaning can it possibly have?"

"It means the whole tradition of morality by which we live, and our
fathers lived. Even the code of honour, which is a little out of shape
nowadays, is based on Christianity, and was once the rule of a good
life, the best rule in the days when it grew up."

"I daresay. Even the code of honour, degenerate as it is, and twist it
how you will, cannot give you an excuse for killing yourself when you
have always behaved honourably, or for running away from the enemy
simply because you are tired of fighting and will not take the trouble
to go on."

"Perhaps you are right," Guido answered. "But the whole question is not
worth arguing. What is life, after all, that we should attach any
importance to it?"

"It is all you have, and you only have it once."

"Who knows? Perhaps we may come back to it again, hundreds and hundreds
of times. There are more people in the world who believe that than there
are Christians."

"If that is what you believe," retorted Lamberti, "you must believe that
the sooner you leave life, the sooner you will come back to it."

"Possibly. But there is a chance that it may not be true, and that
everything may end here. That one chance may be worth taking."

"There is a chance that a man who deserts from his ship may not be
caught. That is not an argument in favour of desertion."

Guido laughed carelessly.

"You have a most unpleasant way of naming things," he said. "Shall we
go? It is growing late, and I have promised to see my aunt before
dinner."

"Will there be any one else there?" asked Lamberti.

"Why? Did you think of going with me?"

"I might. It is a long time since I have called. I think I shall be a
little more assiduous in future."

"It is not gay, at my aunt's," observed Guido. "Monsieur Leroy will be
there. You may have to shake hands with him!"

"You do not seem anxious that I should go with you," laughed Lamberti.

Guido said nothing for a moment, and seemed to be weighing the question,
as if it might be of some importance. Lamberti afterwards remembered the
slight hesitation.

"By all means come," Guido said, when he had made up his mind.

He glanced once more at the place, for he liked it, and it was pleasant
to carry away pictures of what one liked, even of a bit of neglected old
garden with a stone-pine in the middle, clearly c