"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Mr. Brown in astonishment.
"There is one passage which goes deep," went on the Count as though Mr. Brown had not spoken. "It contained some of the deepest philosophy of life; it went to the roots of the whole situation. I had it in my mind when I advised you to make Faversham's acquaintance."
"What passage?" asked Mr. Brown, still failing to catch the drift of the other's words.
"It is this," and the Count spoke very quietly. "For here lay the excellent wisdom of Him who built Mansoul, that the walls could never be broken down, nor hurt by the most mighty adverse potentate, unless the townsmen gave consent thereto."
Mr. Brown looked puzzled. "I don't follow you," he said.
"Don't you? Bunyan wrote in parable, but his meaning is plain. He said that Diabolus could never conquer Mansoul except by the consent of Mansoul. Well, I saw this: England—Britain—could never be conquered except by the consent of the people of England. United, Britain is unconquerable."
"Well?"
"Therefore, I made you see that if your country, which stands for force, and militarism, and barbarism, was to conquer England you must get England divided; you must get her own forces in a state of disunity. A country at war with itself is powerless. Set class against class, interest against interest, party against party, and you produce chaos. That is the only hope of your country, my friend. The thing was to get a man who could do this for you."
"And you thought of Faversham?"
"I told you to make his acquaintance."