What do you think?
Rate this book


436 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1903
As Gortre watched him he knew that here was a brain and intelligence far keener and finer than his own. But with all that certainty he felt entirely undismayed, strangely uplifted.
“I have a message for you, Mr. Schuabe,” he began, and the other bowed slightly, without irony, at his words. “I have a message for you, one which I have been sent here — I firmly believe — to deliver, but it is not the message or the argument that you expect to hear.”
He stopped for a short time, marshalling his mental forces, and noticing a slight but perceptible look of surprise in his host’s eyes.
“I know you better than you imagine, sir,” he said gravely, “and not as many other good and devout Christians see you. I tell you here to-night with absolute certainty that you are the active enemy of Christ — I say active enemy .”
The face opposite became slightly less tranquil, but the voice was as calm as ever.
“You speak according to your lights, Mr. Gortre,” he said. “I am no Christian, but there is much good in Christianity. My words and writings may have helped to lift the veil of superstition and hereditary influences from the eyes of many men, and in that sense I am an enemy of the Christian faith, I suppose. My sincerity is my only apology — if one were needed. You speak with more harshness and less tolerance than I should have thought it your pleasure or your duty to use.”
Gortre rose. “Man,” he cried, with sudden sternness, I know! You hate our Lord, and would work Him evil. You are as Judas was, for to-night it is given me to read far into your brain.”
Schuabe rose quickly from his chair and stood facing him. His face was pallid, something looked out of his eyes which almost frightened the other.
“What do you know?” he cried as if in a swift stroke of pain. Who—?” He stopped himself as if by a tremendous effort.
Some thought came to reassure him.
“Listen,” he said. “I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man leading the blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly, and be swept utterly away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your faith, stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene shall die amid the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as He died two thousand years ago, and no man or woman shall resurrect Him….”
He had spoken with extraordinary vehemence, hissing the words out with a venom and malice, general rather than particular, from which the Churchman shrunk, shuddering…. The smile of a devil flashed over his face. Gortre had turned to him once more and he saw it….
He staggered for a moment and then rose to his full height, a fearful loathing in his eyes, a scorn like a whip of fire in his voice.
Schuabe blanched before him, for he saw the truth in the priest’s soul.
“As the Lord of Hosts is my witness,” cried Gortre loudly, “I know you now for what you are! YOU KNOW THAT CHRIST IS GOD!”
Schuabe shrank into his chair…. At last he spoke. “Go,” he said. “Go, and never let me see your face again. You have spoken. Yet I tell you still that such a blinding blow shall descend upon Christendom that—” (p. 43).
The strong, passionate face was paler than before and worn by suffering. Yet as she strode along there was a wild beauty in her appearance which seemed to harmonise with the very spirit and meaning of the place where she was. And yet the face had lost the old jaunty hardihood. Qualities in it which had before spoken of an impudent self-sufficiency now were changed to quiet purpose. There was an appeal for pity in the eyes which had once been bright with shamelessness and sin….
She knew her power over her former lover, —if that pure word could describe such an unhallowed passion, —knew her power well. He would be as wax in her hands, and it had always been so….
The idea began to emerge from the mist, as it were, and to take form and colour. She thought definitely of it, though with horror; looked it in the face, though shuddering as she did so….
Could she do this thing?
She would only be sinning with her body, not with her heart, and Christ would know why she did so. Would He cast her out for this?
The struggle went on in her brain….
And so, out of her great love for Christ, this poor harlot set out to sin a sin which she thought would take Him away from her forever (p.263-267).