“No, Madame.”
“Then that is wrong. It is sinful.”
The stranger leaned toward her. “It is not I who would kill them. I am only a chance, a little dagger in the hand of fate ... one of a billion chances that have to do with their deaths. I myself would not be killing them.... It would be a strange ... even an impossible accident, if I killed one of them with my own hands. You understand, we are talking facts now ... hard facts. There is no room for sentimentality at a time like this....” He smiled ironically. “I can understand that it is difficult for a woman to talk facts. It is simply a matter of chances ... like roulette shall we say?”
For a time Lily remained thoughtful and silent. At last she said, “They are in the cavalry like yourself. You would kill them. You are one of the chances.” The calmness of her manner stood in terrible contrast to the hysterical outburst of the soldier.
“I can see you are a philosopher ... a femme savant,” mocked the stranger.
“You might choose a better time to jeer.”
The man coughed. “Forgive me.... I am sorry.... I was wrong. If you were a femme savant, I would not be talking to you like this.... You are a woman ... a beautiful woman. One cannot help talking to you.”
“I am only a woman living by what she believes. That is simple enough.”
“It requires courage, Madame ... and indifference, far more of both than I have.” He coughed again, nervously. “Perhaps I am too rational.... Perhaps I do not think resistance worth the trouble ... especially now, at a time when the mob ... the politicians rule absolutely.”