"There are some," he shouted, "who are only loose women all their lives."
"Well," I answered, "there are some who are hunchbacked; but that is not the law for all."
"Get out of here, fool!"
Evidently the officer was not dead in him.
Several times when I asked about God, we wrangled with each other. He angered me with his sly wit, and one evening I went at him with all my might. My character grew bad, for I passed through great suffering at this time. I circled around Anthony like a hungry man around a locked pantry; he smells the bread through the door, and it only tends to madden him. And the night to which I refer, his evasions enraged me. I caught up the knife from the table and cried:
"Tell me everything you believe or I will cut my throat, come what may!"
He became frightened, grabbed my hand, wrenched the knife from me and grew very much excited—not at all like himself.
"You should be punished for this," he said, "but no punishment ever helps fanaticism."
And then he added, and his words were like nails beaten into my head:
"This is what I will tell you: only man exists. Everything else is an opinion. Your God is a dream of your soul. You can only know yourself, and even that not certainly."