“There, put that in your pocket!”
“And you take that!” And Socrate received a heavy blow, with which he rolled to the ground.
It seemed to him as he fell that he flung out his arms to protect himself, and that his fist came in contact with a head. When he was stretched out on the pavement he saw standing on the curbstone a man, motionless and looking at him. They were both in the light of a street-lamp. Suddenly Socrate recognized Phil.
In fact, Phil had been coming down the street just as Socrate kicked the poor animal. In his indignation Phil punished the brute, and then immediately recognized in him Socrate, who, of course, so he thought, was coming from Helia.
Socrate would have jumped on Phil, but he had neither knife nor revolver. So he remained on the pavement, crazy with impotent rage. Phil, remaining calm, picked up his hat, which had fallen in the scuffle. He waited. But as the thinker contented himself with groaning, he went his way without even a look behind.
“Helia! Helia!” he thought within himself, “that you should receive such a creature!”
“Suddenly Socrate recognized Phil”