Providentially the keeper came to notify me that my time was up, and I turned away.
"One thing more," cried the prisoner; "is it still the case that the American people enjoy their freedom best when they are enslaved in some way?"
"You are outrageous," I exclaimed; "the American people are not enslaved in any way. It is true they are restricted for their own good by those more capable of judging than they. That must always be the case."
"I don't know about must," he sighed, "but I am sure it will always be the case as long as a man's idea of freedom is his ability to impose some slavish notion on his brother."
"Good-bye," I said, with a recurrence to my smirk of pharisaical pity, "I am sorry to see you here."
"Oh, don't be troubled on my account," he answered; "on the whole, I am satisfied."
"Satisfied! Impossible!" I cried.
"Why impossible? Consider that I shall never again be compelled to associate with decent, honest folk. Oh, I have cause to be satisfied; I am here on a life sentence."
