“Prove to me that there is one,” he said excitedly, “and I will believe you.”
She stooped and laid a finger on his sightless eyes.
He understood her. “Do you think that your imaginary God has afflicted me willfully?”
“Not willfully, but lovingly.”
“This is infuriating,” he exclaimed, his face flushing violently. “A loving God who casts a created thing into a dark pit!”
“Oh no, no,” said Vivienne sadly; “the creature does that. We cast ourselves into dark pits because we will not see the light of the world shining above us.”
“But we are created with evil propensities that take us pitward, according to you.”
“Evil propensities that we must not follow, for God will also give us strength to overcome them if we ask him.”
“This is Stargarde’s doctrine,” he said sullenly. “I want none of it. You Christians are most illogical people. Primitive traditions, handed down through eighteen centuries and starting among ignorant, unlettered peasants and fishermen, are your rule of life. You can’t prove a single one of your statements to be true.”
“What is proof?” asked Vivienne.