believes, the more fiercely he despises those who do not believe in them. And yet the greatest of all beliefs would be belief in one's fellow-men."
"Everyone has the best of feelings towards mankind in general, but not towards the individual man. We'll kill men, but we want to save mankind. And that isn't right, your Reverence. The world will be an evil place as long as people don't believe in other people."
"Mr. Binder," said Father Jost thoughtfully, "I wonder if you would make me some of that Moravian sauerkraut to-morrow. I'd like to try it."
"It has to be partly stewed and then steamed, and done like that with a fried sausage it's very good. Every religion and every truth has something good in it, if it's only the fact that it suits somebody else."
The door was opened from outside, and a policeman stepped in. He was chilled to the bone and wanted a glass of rum.
"Ah, it's you, is it, Sergeant Hruska," said Brych. "Well now, where have you come from?"
"Oh, we've been up in Zizkov," answered the policeman, pulling off his enormous gloves. "There was a raid on."
"What did you catch?"
"Oh, a couple of roughs, and a few undesirables. And then at number 1006—in the cellar of the house, I mean—there was a den."
