“The American Republic is but a little over a hundred years old. We reckon in years, they reckon by centuries. The founding of this nation was one of the happiest accidents in the history of the world. But it was an accident. The kings were too busy fighting one another in the stirring years of the American Revolution to give their attention to you. Your fathers won on a lucky fluke. And thanks to the barriers of two vast oceans you grew and waxed strong with incredible rapidity. You were safe as long as these oceans protected you and no longer. The genius of man has abolished the ocean barrier. There is no more sea. The ocean is now the world’s highway and transport by water is swifter and safer than by land. The oceans no longer protect you. They are a constant menace to your existence—”
“You are assuming that the world is not civilized—that we are still living in the Dark Ages,” Virginia interrupted.
“I am assuming only the facts of modern life: that force still rules the world; that government is force; that there are two forms of government and only two, and that they are irreconcilable—government by the people and government of the people by imperial masters. These systems can no more mix than fire and water. The world must yet be conquered by one of them. You assume that we have settled our form of government for all time. We have—provided we are ready to demonstrate to the imperial rulers that we can defend it against all comers—”
Virginia threw up her hands in a gesture of despair.
“You’re hopeless!”
“Can you not see this?” he pleaded.
“I refuse to see it. I still have faith in God and my fellow man.”
He looked at her flushed exquisite face with deep tenderness—lifted his eyes and saw Zonia and Marya the center of an admiring group of children.
“You like my little Zonia?” he asked in apparently irrevelent tones.
“I love her—”