'Then, by God, she was right!' cried the Russian hoarsely. 'It was this--this that made me the target of her scorn!' He tore off his white tie madly as he spoke, threw it on the ground, and trampled upon it. 'She and I were kindred in suffering; I read it in her eyes, averted as they were at the sight of this accursed thing! You stare at me--you think I have gone mad. Leon, you are not as other men. Can you not guess that this damnable white tie has been choking the life and manhood out of me? But it is over now. Take your pen, Leon, as you are my friend, and write what I shall dictate.' Silenced by the stress of a great soul, half dazed by the strange, unexpected revelation, Raphael seated himself, took his pen, and wrote: 'We understand that the Rev. Joseph Strelitski has resigned his position in the Kensington Synagogue.' Not till he had written it did the full force of the paragraph overwhelm his soul. 'But you will not do this?' he said, looking up almost incredulously at the popular minister. 'I will; the position has become impossible. Leon, do you not understand? I am not what I was when I took it. I have lived, and life is change. Stagnation is death. Surely you can understand, for you, too, have changed. Cannot I read between the lines of your leaders?' 'Cannot you read in them?' said Raphael, with a wan smile. 'I have modified some opinions, it is true, and developed others; but I have disguised none.' 'Not consciously, perhaps, but you do not speak all your thought.' 'Perhaps I do not listen to it,' said Raphael, half to himself. 'But you--whatever your change--you have not lost faith in primaries?' 'No; not in what I consider such.' 'Then why give up your platform, your housetop, whence you may do so much good? You are loved, venerated.' Strelitski placed his palms over his ears. 'Don't! don't!' he cried. 'Don't you be the _advocatus diaboli_! Do you think I have not told myself all these things a thousand times? Do you think I have not tried every kind of opiate? No, no; be silent, if you can say nothing to strengthen me in my resolution: am I not weak enough already? Promise me, give me your hand, swear to me that you will put that paragraph in the paper Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday--in six days I shall change a hundred times. Swear to me, so that I may leave this room at peace, the long conflict ended. Promise me you will insert it, though I myself should ask you to cancel it.' 'But----' began Raphael. Strelitski turned away impatiently and groaned.