‘None,’ I said quietly.
‘Nor does she.’ he answered again, stopping opposite me. You made up your mind—how?’
‘I was born in the Religion,’ I said.
‘And you have never questioned it?’
‘Never.’
‘Nor thought much about it?’
‘Not a great deal,’ I answered.
‘Saint Gris!’ he exclaimed in a low tone. ‘And do you never think of hell-fire—of the worm which dieth not, and the fire which shall not be quenched? Do you never think of that, M. de Marsac?’
‘No, my friend, never!’ I answered, rising impatiently; for at that hour, and in that silent, gloomy room I found his conversation dispiriting. ‘I believe what I was taught to believe, and I strive to hurt no one but the enemy. I think little; and if I were you I would think less. I would do something, man—fight, play, work, anything but think! I leave that to clerks.’
‘I am a clerk,’ he answered.