If we open one tower to the enemy he is master of the whole fortress.

In these unsettled times our sacred lore is like a chariot on the declivity of a precipice, and under the wheels thereof a stone.

A child takes away the stone, and the chariot rolls down into the abyss and is dashed to pieces.

Imagine the princess to be that child, and the stone a loaf that she would fain give to feed a beggar.

Would you then give it to her if your father and your mother and all that is dear and precious to you were in the chariot?
Answer not! the princess will visit the paraschites again to-morrow.