"What's the use? You're a czar yourself. You're only another kind."
MacLeod looked at him thoughtfully, as if struck by the form of words.
"My dear fellow," he said, "is it possible you believe in the present state of things? Do you want one man to possess everything and the next man nothing?"
Osmond frowned his negation. MacLeod, unfairly it seemed to him, made him feel young and inadequate to the matter. He had the eyes to see what cause was just, yet he had not the equipment to maintain any cause at all.
"What is the use," he essayed, "for you and men like you to head revolts? It only means you are ruling instead of the rulers you overturn. It will all be done over again. The big man will rise to the top. The little man will go under. And in time you will have the same conditions repeated. It's because you are not teaching love. You are teaching envy and hate."
"How do you know I am?"
Osmond kept on as if he were speaking to himself, groping painfully for what he found.
"You are not preaching good work. You are preaching revolt against work—class hatred and discontent."
"Do you believe in non-resistance?"
"No."