O’CONNELL.  Will you please to make allowance, Lord Charles, for a mediaeval scholar’s contempt of modern government?  You at least will partly understand his horror as a Catholic at the modern superstitions in favour of popular opinion and control which it encourages.  You see, Lord Horsham, I am not a party man, only a little less enthusiastic for the opposite cries than for his own.  You appealed very strangely to my feelings of patriotism for this country; but you see even my own is—­in the twentieth century—­foreign to me.  From my point of view neither Mr. Trebell, nor you, nor the men you have just defeated, nor any discoverable man or body of men will make laws which matter ... or differ in the slightest.  You are all part of your age and you all voice—­though in separate keys, or even tunes they may be—­only the greed and follies of your age.  That you should do this and nothing more is, of course, the democratic ideal.  You will forgive my thinking tenderly of the statesmanship of the first Edward.

      The library door opens and RUSSELL BLACKBOROUGH comes in.  He has on
      evening clothes, complicated by a long silk comforter and the motoring
      cap which he carries.

HORSHAM.  You know Russell Blackborough.

O’CONNELL.  I think not.

BLACKBOROUGH.  How d’you do?

      O’CONNELL having bowed, BLACKBOROUGH having nodded, the two men sit
      down, BLACKBOROUGH with an air of great attention, O’CONNELL to
      continue his interrupted speech.

O’CONNELL.  And you are as far from me in your code of personal morals as in your politics.  In neither do you seem to realise that such a thing as passion can exist.  No doubt you use the words Love and Hatred; but do you know that love and hatred for principles or persons should come from beyond a man?  I notice you speak of forgiveness as if it were a penny in my pocket.  You have been endeavouring for these two days to rouse me from my indifference towards Mr. Trebell.  Perhaps you are on the point of succeeding ... but I do not know what you may rouse.

HORSHAM.  I understand.  We are much in agreement, Mr. O’Connell.  What can a man be—­who has any pretensions to philosophy—­but helplessly indifferent to the thousands of his fellow creatures whose fates are intertwined with his?

O’CONNELL.  I am glad that you understand.  But, again ... have I been wrong to shrink from personal relations with Mr. Trebell?  Hatred is as sacred a responsibility as love.  And you will not agree with me when I say that punishment can be the salvation of a man’s soul.

FARRANT. [With aggressive common sense.] Look here.  O’Connell, if you’re indifferent it doesn’t hurt you to let him off.  And if you hate him...!  Well, one shouldn’t hate people ... there’s no room for it in this world.

CANTELUPE. [Quietly as ever.] We have some authority for thinking that the punishment of a secret sin is awarded by God secretly.