"You're rationalizing," said Justin. "I could name some other sane men of prominence—Timur the Great, Attila, Metternich, Stalin. Find me any saner men."
"Who are these strangers of whom ye speak?" asked Deborah.
The men ignored her. Ortine said, "In the case of each there were extenuating circumstances...."
"And," said Justin, "I can name you some sane men who, for one reason or another, failed—which can only be called a blessing to mankind. Rokh-ud-Din, the last emir of the Assassins, for instance—or Lucullus or Louis Fourteenth or Bismarck or Robespierre. Now certainly no saner, less imaginative, more honorable man than Robespierre ever lived. Yet he virtually destroyed a great revolution by his very sanity."
For the first time Ortine looked seriously annoyed. He said, "On what range of experience do you base your judgment of what is beneficial for humanity or not, my dear Justin? This is ridiculous—why should I argue with you?"
"Because you've got to persuade me to do your will or your entire scheme will collapse," Justin told him calmly.
"You're risking the person you love most," said Ortine.
"Not yet," replied Justin. "And here's something else that has me stopped—if you're so anxious to save our planet from its so-called ruin, why are you taking the very steps that will lead to its speedy destruction?"
"Consider," said Ortine, regaining his self control, "if my plan is followed your planet will suffer a certain retrogression, of course. Now think what such a retrogression will mean—it will mean no A-bomb, no airplanes, none of the modern destructive machinery. In that way your planet will be aeons from self-destruction."
"You'll force us back to the caves!" cried Justin.