Then, with an ominous air of conviction, behind which lay a vista of millions of crushed lives and oceans of bitter tears and the unchecked fiery course of rebellion's cry for justice, she asked sternly:
»What right have you to be fine when I am so common?«
»What?« he did not understand at once, but instantly felt a dread of the gulf that yawned in all its blackness at his very feet.
»I have been waiting for you for a long time.«
»You—waiting for me?«
»Yes, I have been waiting for a fine man. For five years I have been waiting—perhaps longer. All those who came admitted they were brutes—and brutes they were. My author first said he was fine, but then admitted he was a brute, too. I don't want that sort.«
»What, then—what do you want?«
»I want you, my darling,—you. Yes, just such as you.« She scrutinized him carefully and quietly from head to foot and affirmatively nodded her head. »Yes—thank you for coming.«
Then he who feared nothing, trembled.
»What do you want with me?« he asked, stepping back.