“Do not compare Mohammedanism with our holy religion. Christ came with peace on his lips, Mohammed with a sword in his hand. And what has Mohammedanism done for the countries where it is even now decaying?”
“It solidified them,” said Valentine lightly. “So I have read. And all Mohammedans don’t live up to the precepts of the Koran, you know.”
“Mohammedanism is rent by frightful quarrels, and if you have read about it you know the immorality of many of its religious teachers——”
“So are Christians immoral.”
“That is because they do not live up to the teachings of our divine model. But I do not know that it is of very much use to argue with you, Valentine. You misunderstand so sadly. I have heard you reasoning with others—notably, one evening when you spoke of the crucifixion. You said that Jesus Christ could not have died in six hours on the cross, that he was only unconscious when they bore him away to the tomb. I wished to say, his broken heart—broken by the sins of the world; you forget that—but I was too much agitated. I think that we can only pray for you——”
“I do not wish your prayers,” he said quickly; “and I am not unhappy as you think I am—that is, about religious matters. You mistake me.”
“If you think that my religion is a delusion my prayers will not affect you,” said Vivienne; “but have you not a lingering belief in the creed of your forefathers?”
“No,” he said stoutly, “I have not.”
“Stanton has,” she murmured happily; “I could not marry him if he had not.”
“You are young,” pursued Valentine; “do you ever feel a horror of death? What do you think would become of you if a thunderbolt should fall from the sky and strike you dead ten minutes from now?”