Genron. "Bah! If you go to the churches" (with a shrug) "they will tickle your ears; they will make a picture for you with all their fluid colours. But of hard reason, of close, convincing argument—how much? The Greek orators carried their audience with them—an audience of men. Our Lacordaires and Didons carry away their churches full of women. But men—men with brains—how many? Bah!"
Mdme. Martineau. "Ah! Monsieur le Professeur, one must have a little religion in this world."
Mdme. de Belcour (softly). "For when one is old."
Elton (to Genron). "In our Church there is more latitude, more free play of thought. A dozen different doctrines in a dozen different churches—you choose the doctrine that suits you. All the world goes to hear a remarkable preacher, and he does carry away some men as well as women."
Genron (smiling ironically). "I spoke of men with brains, sir. Your Herbert Spencer, your Huxley, etc."
Eliza. (in English, speaking low to Baring through Genron's speech, which flows on). "I give you up that old atheist. Why will he insist that every one who has any faith is a fool? He is odious."
Baring (with a faint smile). "You are like the Russian traveller, obliged to fling out his children one by one to the wolves. Doucet and Narishkine are already devoured; now the old Voltairean is going. I am delighted."
Eliza. "Don't press the analogy too closely. Recollect it is to you I am flinging them." (Here she also smiles.)
Baring. "I think not. I can't flatter myself that you
