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. O'CONNELL. We have very poor authority, sir, for using God's name merely to fill up the gaps in an argument, though we may thus have our way easily with men who fear God more than they know him. I am not one of those. Yes, Farrant, you and your like have left little room in this world except for the dusty roads on which I notice you beginning once more to travel. The rule of them is the same for all, is it not ... from the tramp and the labourer to the plutocrat in his car? This is the age of equality; and it's a fine practical equality ... the equality of the road. But you've fenced the fields of human joy and turned the very hillsides into hoardings, Commercial opportunity is painted on them, I think. FARRANT. [_Not to be impressed._] Perhaps it is O'Connell. My father made his money out of newspapers and I ride in a motor car and you came from Holyhead by train. What has all that to do with it? Why can't you make up your mind? You know in this sort of case one talks a lot ... and then does the usual thing. You must let Trebell off and that's all about it. O'CONNELL. Indeed. And do they still think it worth while to administer an oath to your witnesses? _He is interrupted by the flinging open of the door and the triumphant right-this-time-anyhow voice in which_ EDMUNDS _announces_ "Mr. Trebell, my lord." _The general consternation expresses itself through_ HORSHAM, _who complains aloud and unreservedly._