The words were uttered with a tragic emphasis which left him speechless. He could think of nothing to say that was not banal or superficial, and he realised that here were deep waters! He glanced once or twice at her face, which had grown suddenly dark and brooding; then, with a little motion of her hands, she seemed to push her thoughts away.
"You do not know much of Polish history, perhaps," she said, in a lighter tone. "But if you are fond of tales of heroism, you should read it, for it is one long heroism. It will help you to realise more fully what your flag stands for. It is my flag, too; I have lived in America nearly ten years; and never do I grow so angry as when I hear an American speak slightingly of his country. Here is the hotel. Forgive me for talking like this; but it has done me good to meet you!"
"And me!" he said. "Must you go in?"
"Yes; my father will be wondering where I am. Good-bye."
She held out her hand and gave his a frank little pressure. Then she turned and left him.
He watched until the door swung shut behind her; then he walked on slowly, past the great basins, over the drawbridge, along the crooked streets of the old town, past the station, and finally he stopped in the shadow of a crag of rock which sprang abruptly three hundred feet into the air. Its summit was crowned by the frowning walls of the great fort which commands the harbour, and along the face of the cliff, blue with heather, a narrow footpath wound deviously upward. He ascended this for a little way, and then stopped, his elbows on the wall which guarded it. Before him stretched the bay, shielded by its jetty, and beyond rolled the white-capped ocean. That way lay America.
"The land of freedom!" he murmured, and his eyes were bright. "The land of freedom!"