nd 'no', at least,
belong to the same category. Murder is a spiritual incident. Bloodshed
is a physical incident. A surgeon commits bloodshed.

"Ah, you're a casuist!" said the large man, wagging his head. "Now, do
you know what I always say to casuists...?"

MacIan made a violent gesture; and Turnbull broke into open laughter.
The peacemaker did not seem to be in the least annoyed, but continued in
unabated enjoyment.

"Well, well," he said, "let us get back to the point. Now Tolstoy has
shown that force is no remedy; so you see the position in which I am
placed. I am doing my best to stop what I'm sure you won't mind my
calling this really useless violence, this really quite wrong violence
of yours. But it's against my principles to call in the police against
you, because the police are still on a lower moral plane, so to speak,
because, in short, the police undoubtedly sometimes employ force.
Tolstoy has shown that violence merely breeds violence in the person
towards whom it is used, whereas Love, on the other hand, breeds Love.
So you see how I am placed. I am reduced to use Love in order to stop
you. I am obliged to use Love."

He gave to the word an indescribable sound of something hard and heavy,
as if he were saying "boots". Turnbull suddenly gripped his sword and
said, shortly, "I see how you are placed quite well, sir. You will not
call the police. Mr. MacIan, shall we engage?" MacIan plucked his sword
out of the grass.

"I must and will stop this shocking crime," cried the Tolstoian,
crimson in the face. "It is against all modern ideas. It is against the
principle of love. How you, sir, who pretend to be a Christian..."

MacIan turned upon him with a white face and bitter lip. "Sir," he said,
"talk about the principle of love as much as you like. You seem to me
colder than a lump of stone; but I am willing to believe that you may at
some time have loved a cat, or a dog, or a child. When you were a baby,
I suppose you loved your mother. Talk about love, then, till the world
is sick of the word. But don't you talk about Christianity. Don't you
dare to say one word, white or black, about it. Christianity is, as far
as you are concerned, a horrible mystery. Keep clear of it, keep silent
upon it, as you would upon an abomination. It is a thing that has made
men slay and torture each other; and you will never know why. It is a
thing that has made men do evil that good might come; and you will never
understa