"Breakfast is ready, father," said the girl. "And—and the man came past, as you expected, and gave me that for you," she added, with a little gesture toward the sealed envelope.
The man advanced to the table, picked up the envelope, and walked on to the window. For a moment he stood staring out across the harbour; then there was the sound of ripping paper, a moment's silence, and he thrust the envelope into his pocket and turned back to the table.
"It is well!" he said, and sat down. "It is well, Kasia!"
"I am glad of that, father," she answered, in a low voice, and poured his coffee.
He ate rapidly and as though very hungry; but the girl made only a pretence of eating. At last the man looked at her.
"We leave at once," he said. "We are to take the first boat for America. Are you not glad?"
"Very glad, father."
"Why is it you so love America, Kasia?" he asked.
"You also love it, father. It is the land of freedom—even for us poor Poles, it is the land of freedom!"
"The land of freedom!" he echoed. "And I love it, as you say. It is because of that I hasten back; I have in store for her a great honour, which will make her more than ever the land of freedom! For she is not free yet, Kasia—not for poor Poles, nor for poor Jews, nor for the poor of any nation. The poor cannot know freedom—not anywhere in the whole world. They must labour, they must sweat, they may not rest if they would live, for the greater part of what they earn is stolen from them. But I will change all that! Oh, you know my dream—no more poverty, no more suffering, no more cruelty and tyranny and injustice—but all men, all the nations of the world, joined in brotherhood and love! This day at dawn I struck the first blow for freedom! Do you know what it was, my daughter? Did you hear the roar of the waters as they opened? See!"