“There is nothing to understand. It is clear as print. There have always been the stupid and the clever, the slave and the master, the peasant and the prince. There always will be.”
“But why?”
“Why is a peasant a peasant, my dear? Because he is a peasant. Why is a flea a flea?”
Saxon tossed her head fretfully.
“Oh, but my dear, I have answered. The philosophies of the world can give no better answer. Why do you like your man for a husband rather than any other man? Because you like him that way, that is all. Why do you like? Because you like. Why does fire burn and frost bite? Why are there clever men and stupid men? masters and slaves? employers and workingmen? Why is black black? Answer that and you answer everything.”
“But it is not right that men should go hungry and without work when they want to work if only they can get a square deal,” Saxon protested.
“Oh, but it is right, just as it is right that stone won't burn like wood, that sea sand isn't sugar, that thorns prick, that water is wet, that smoke rises, that things fall down and not up.”
But such doctrine of reality made no impression on Saxon. Frankly, she could not comprehend. It seemed like so much nonsense.
“Then we have no liberty and independence,” she cried passionately. “One man is not as good as another. My child has not the right to live that a rich mother's child has.”
“Certainly not,” Mercedes answered.