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That’s not the point.
What then? Are you afraid of being caught? But I told you, if anything should happen, I’ll take the guilt on myself. Don’t you believe me?
Why, of course I believe you.
What then? Do you fear God?
Yes, I do.
But you don’t believe in God—you believe in the devil.
Who knows? Maybe some day I’ll suddenly discover that He does exist. In that case, Mr. Savva, I thank you, but I’d rather not. Why should I? I live a nice, quiet existence. Of course, it’s all a humbug, an imposition. But what business is it of mine? The people want to believe—let them. It wasn’t I who invented God.
Look here. You know I could have done it myself. All I need have done was to take a bomb and throw it into the procession. That’s all. But that would mean the killing of many people, which at the present juncture would serve no useful purpose. I therefore ask you to do it. If you refuse, then the blood will rest on you. You understand?
Why on me? I am not going to throw the bomb. And then, what have I got to do with them—I mean the people that get killed? What concern are they of mine? There are plenty of people in the world. You can’t kill them all, no matter how many bombs you throw.
Aren’t you sorry for them?
If I were to be sorry for everybody, I should have no sympathy left for myself.
That’s right. You are a bright man. You have a good mind. I have already told you so. And yet you hesitate. You are clever, and yet you are afraid to smash a piece of wood.
If it is nothing but a piece of wood, then why go to so much trouble about it? The point is, it is not a piece of wood, it is an image.
For me it is a piece of wood. For the people it is a sacred object. That is why I want to destroy it. Imagine how they’ll open their mouths and stare. Ah, brother, if you were not a coward, I would tell you some things.
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