to denounce the outrages of the Nihilists, and talk with indignation of the useless crimes of the Camorra, how could one have thought it possible that assassination should be demanded of you as a duty?"
"But Lind," Lord Evelyn exclaimed—"surely Lind does not approve of such a thing?"
"No, he does not," Brand answered. "He says it will prove a misfortune—"
"Then why does he not protest?"
"Protest against a decree of the Council!" the other exclaimed. "You don't know as much as I do, Evelyn, about that Council. No, I have sworn obedience, and I will obey."
He had recovered his firmness; he seemed resigned—even resolved. It was his friend who was excited.
"I tell you all the oaths in the world cannot compel a man to commit murder," Evelyn said, hotly.
"Oh, they don't call it murder," Brand replied, without any bitterness whatever; "they call it a punishment, a warning to the evil-doers of Europe. And no doubt this man is a great scoundrel, and cannot be reached by the law; and then, besides, one of the members of the Society, who is poor and old, and who has suffered grievous wrong from this man, has appealed to the Council to avenge him. No; I can see their positions. I have no doubt they believe they are acting justly."
"But you yourself do not think so."
"My dear fellow, it is not for the private soldier to ask whether his sovereign has gone to war justly or unjustly. It is his business to obey commands—to kill, if need be—according to his oath."