When you had finished, and kissed the crucifix,
you glanced round and whispered: 'I am
very sorry for you, Arthur; but I daren't show it;
He would be angry.' And I looked at Him, and
the wooden image was laughing.
"Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the
barrack and the coolies with their leprosy, I understood.
I saw that you care more to curry favour
with that devilish God of yours than to save me
from any hell. And I have remembered that. I
forgot just now when you touched me; I--have
been ill, and I used to love you once. But there
can be nothing between us but war, and war,
and war. What do you want to hold my hand for?
Can't you see that while you believe in your Jesus
we can't be anything but enemies?"
Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand.
"Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If
I have kept my faith through all these frightful
years, how can I ever doubt Him any more, now
that He has given you back to me? Remember,
I thought I had killed you.
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