"Well, yes, for instance."
"No," he smiled. "I think of them sometimes, but not about them."
"How do you mean?"
"I get no further. That is my nature. I am a dreamer by nature; and my dream is the past."
"Don't you dream of yourself?"
"No. Of my soul, my inner self? No. It interests me very little."
"Have you ever suffered?"
"Suffered? Yes, no. I don't know. I feel sorry for my utter uselessness as a human being, as a son, as a man; but, when I dream, I am happy."
"How do you come to speak to me so openly?"
He looked at her in surprise: