His tones moved the listener, as appeared in her look and attitude.

“Surely all the best in every country lean to it,” she said.

“Of course!  That’s our hope—­but at the same time the pitiful thing; for the best hold back, keep silence, as if their quiet contempt could prevail against this activity of the reckless and the foolish.”

“One can’t make a religion,” said Irene sadly.  “It is just this religious spirit which has decayed throughout our world.  Christianity turns to ritualism.  And science—­we were told you know, that science would be religion enough.”

“There’s the pity—­the failure of science as a civilising force.  I know,” added Piers quickly, “that there are men whose spirit, whose work, doesn’t share in that failure; they are the men—­the very few—­who are above self-interest.  But science on the whole, has come to mean money-making and weapon-making.  It leads the international struggle; it is judged by its value to the capitalist and the soldier.”

“Isn’t this perhaps a stage of evolution that the world must live through—­to its extreme results?”

“Very likely.  The signs are bad enough.”

“You haven’t yourself that enthusiastic hope?”

“I try to hope,” said Piers, in a low, unsteady voice, his eyes falling timidly before her glance.  “But what you said is so true—­ one can’t create the spirit of religion.  If one hasn’t it——­” He broke off, and added with a smile, “I think I have a certain amount of enthusiasm.  But when one has seen a good deal of the world, it’s so very easy to feel discouraged.  Think how much sheer barbarism there is around us, from the brutal savage of the gutter to the cunning savage of the Stock Exchange!”

Irene had a gleam in her eyes; she nodded appreciation.

“If,” he went on vigorously, “if one could make the multitude really understand—­understand to the point of action—­how enormously its interest is peace!”

“More hope that way, I’m afraid,” said Irene, “than through idealisms.”

“Yes, yes.  If it comes at all, it’ll be by the way of self-interest.  And really it looks as if the military tyrants might overreach themselves here and there.  Italy, for instance.  Think of Italy, crushed and cursed by a blood-tax that the people themselves see to be futile.  One enters into the spirit of the men who freed Italy from foreigners—­it was glorious; but how much more glorious to excite a rebellion there against her own rulers!  Shouldn’t you enjoy doing that?”

At times, there is no subtler compliment to a woman than to address her as if she were a man.  It must be done involuntarily, as was the case with this utterance of Otway’s.  Irene rewarded him with a look such as he had never had from her, the look of rejoicing comradeship.

“Indeed I should!  Italy is becoming a misery to those who love her.  Is no plot going on?  Couldn’t one start a conspiracy against that infamous misgovernment?”