Brandon somehow felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dashed over him. He had allowed himself to expect more sonorous epithets. Intoxicated by the play’s magic, he suddenly took the bull by the horns. “I want you to put it up at your best theater in the next six months,” he said. “My dear boy,” Pomfret gasped, “do you want to ruin me?” “What’s the objection?” “Simply that it isn’t a commercial proposition. Mind, I’m not saying a word against the play. You’ve got a wonderful head to have thought of it all, but as I say, it isn’t a commercial proposition.” “It isn’t my head that’s thought of it, you old dunce,” said Brandon. “Therefore I invite you to express yourself quite freely and frankly.” “Well, in the first place,” said the great man, drawing at his cigar, “the subject itself is not suited to the theater.” “You think so?” “I’m sure of it. The whole thing is far too fantastic.” “Don’t you think the central figure is a wonderful conception?” “Yes, I do. But who do you suppose is going to play a god who works miracles, who is the genius of love and laughter, who heals the wounds of the world by converting it to a religion of universal brotherhood, universal fellowship, universal joy? Of course, in its way it’s sublime, but the whole thing is full of peril.” “It has pitfalls, no doubt. But if only the players will have courage, I am convinced that the play will carry them.” “It would be a terrible risk. And then there’s the Censor.” Brandon confessed that he had forgotten the Censor. “He’s very shy of religion as a rule,” said Pomfret. “And he’s very likely to object that it’s far too gentle with the Boche. The creed of love your enemies is all very well in the Bible, but it’s quite impossible to practice--at any rate just now. And then the parsons won’t like their pitch being queered. Their stock in trade has always been gloom, reproach, damnation, mumbo jumbo, but your deity is a sort of Pied Piper, who converts a bleeding world to the love of God by the charm of his music, his power of sympathy, and his care for the doers of evil. Yes, it’s a remarkable idea, but I’m afraid it’s pro-Boche, and as far as the religious aspect goes, the people whom it might hope to interest are the most likely to take offense at it.” “I can’t think they will,” Brandon protested, “if it’s given in the spirit in which it’s conceived. Don’t you see that it restates the central truths of Christianity, and presents them in a clearer, fuller, more universal light?” “It may, but that is not likely to appeal to the big public, which goes to the play to be amused, and not to be edified.” “Why not let the two states be one and the same? Why not let them march together?” “My boy, you don’t know the theater.”