“That may be. I am sorry if I misunderstood you.” Von Deitz shrugged his narrow shoulders, with an air of condescension, as much as to say that he had got the best of the argument. This was not lost upon Yourii, whose fury almost choked him. “I do not deny that Christianity has played an enormous part …” “Ah! now you contradict yourself,” exclaimed Von Deitz, more triumphant than ever, being intensely pleased to feel how incomparably superior he was to Yourii, who obviously had not the remotest conception of what was so neatly and definitely set out in his own brain. “To _you_ it may seem that I am contradicting myself,” said Yourii bitterly, “but, as a matter of fact, my contention is a perfectly logical one, and it is not my fault if you don’t wish to understand me. I said before, and I say again, that Christianity is played out, and it is vain to look to it for salvation.” “Yes, yes; but do you mean to deny the salutary influence of Christianity, that is to say, as the basis of social order? …” “No, I don’t deny that.” “But I do,” interposed Sanine, who till now had walked behind them in silence. His voice sounded calm and pleasant, in strange contrast to the harsh accent of the disputants. Yourii was silent. This good-tempered, mocking tone of voice annoyed him, yet he had no answer ready. He was not fond of arguing with Sanine, for his usual vocabulary proved useless in such an encounter. Every time it seemed as if he were trying to break down a wall while standing on smooth ice. Von Deitz, however, stumbling along and rattling his spurs, exclaimed irritably: “May I ask why?” “Because I do,” replied Sanine coolly. “Because you do! If one asserts a thing, one ought to prove it.” “Why must I prove it? There is no need to prove anything. It is my own personal conviction, but I have not the slightest wish to convince you. Besides, it would be useless.” “According to your line of reasoning,” observed Yourii cautiously, “one had better make a bonfire of all literature.” “Oh no! Why do that?” replied Sanine. “Literature is a very great, and a very interesting thing. Real literature, such as I mean, is not polemical after the manner of some prig who, having nothing to do, endeavours to convince everybody that he is extremely intelligent. Literature reconstructs life, and penetrates even to the very life- blood of humanity, from generation to generation. To destroy literature would be to take away all colour from life and make it insipid.” Von Deitz stopped short, letting Yourii pass him, and then he asked Sanine: “Oh! pray tell me more! What you were saying just now interests me immensely.” Sanine laughed.