He moved away, but the other followed close beside him, agitated and voluble.
“Cells!” he cried—“cells! But is not that a fine comment on your propaganda? I interpret your Rights according to the tables, and you send me to the guillotine for it.”
“I?” said Paine. He stopped in desperation.
“Is not your emissary up there now,” cried Garat, “marking off the doomed?”
“My emissary?” said Paine.
“You are as responsible as any for him,” said the ex-President, kneading his damp palms together. “If you would try to blow east and west at once, meddling with unknown forces. You should have remembered, monsieur, that the first right of man is to existence. There would have been a fine air of originality about that precept. It has always been the easiest thing in the world to solve human problems by killing.”
The demagogue took refuge behind derision.
“I perceive you are simply a coward,” he said.
“Yes,” cried Garat, his lips trembling. “I am simply that. What can you expect, who have decreed us annihilation for our despair? Our ancient wrongs conceded us a heaven after all; your modern rights have taken it away. It is all very well for you, safeguarded by your position, to pretend to despise death; it would be another matter, I expect, if you feared, like me, to find the chalk-mark on your door.”
“Rest assured,” said Paine contemptuously. “If you have sought to serve Justice, Justice will not destroy her own.”