"Why?" asked Mr. Brown.
"Because it stands for those things I abominate. Because, in spite of its so-called materialism, it still holds fast to the old standards of religion, and all that religion means. It stands for what the world calls progress, for civilisation, and Democracy. And I hate Democracy."
"You are a Russian," commented Mr. Brown—"a Russian aristocrat, therefore you would naturally hate Democracy."
"Am I?" and the Count laughed. "Well, call me that if you like."
"You told me so when we first met."
"Did I? I know you came to me in a sad way. You began to doubt your country, and your country's victory. You saw that it would never gain what it desired and hoped on the battlefield. You realised that this England—this Britain that you had scorned—was mightier than you thought. You saw that John Bull, whom I hate as much as you, was practically invincible."
"Yes; I could not help realising that. I admitted it to you, and you told me to——"
"Take special note of Faversham. I told you his story."
"Yes, you did, and I accepted your advice. I went to Eastroyd; I made his acquaintance."
"And were impressed by the power he had obtained over the working classes, the Democracy, that we hear so much about. As you told me, he had taken up their cause, and that he had developed the gift of public oratory so assiduously that his power over working-class audiences was almost magnetic."