And, then, you will not all like the _Holy War_.

The mass of men could not be expected to like any such book.

How could the vain and blind citizen of a vain and blind city like to be wakened up, as Paris was wakened up within our own remembrance, to find all her gates in the hands of an iron-hearted enemy?
And how could her sons like to be reminded, as they sit in their wine gardens, that they are thereby fast preparing their city for that threatened day when she is to be hung up on her own walls and bled to the white?
Who would not hate and revile the book or the preacher who prophesied such rough things as that?
Who could love the author or the preacher who told him to his face that his eyes and his ears and all the passes to his heart were already in the hands of a cruel, ruthless, and masterful enemy?
No wonder that you never read the _Holy War_.

No wonder that the bulk of men have never once opened it.

The Downfall is not a favourite book in the night-gardens of Paris.
3.