You know. Politics."
And indeed another outburst came. Trembling with rage Michael stormed
to the lifeless hearth, and smashed his boot-heel against it.
"GOD DAMN YOU TO HELL!" he cried. "You, and this bloody world you've
made for yourselves! My cousin is dead because of your politics
. The man in the next room is dead, and I am a murderer..... Aahh!
Jesus!"
Stunned by the power of the man's emotions, and fearing for the
consequences, Stephen all but begged.
"It was an accident. I'll testify on your behalf. Look, it's not the
end---"
"No! Not for you and me. We're the lucky ones. We're left to go on
fighting." Michael brought his gaze back to earth, knowing his words
would never reach the younger man. But still they must be spoken.
"Can't you see, Purceville? When men hold in their hands the fate of
nations, there's no room for whim, or politics. Don't you see that
every time your King rolls angrily in his bed, a thousand lives are
swept away?
"You! You took away our land, our dignity, and gave us nothing in
return but the butt of your muskets.
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