"A platitude. Yes. Life consists in learning platitudes."
"I am only one woman among thousands."
"A revelation."
"You jeer."
"Not so. Few women learn the truth of your proverb."
"Lastly, my trouble is not the only woe in the world. That it is an error to close up grief in the casket of self."
Fulviac flapped his bridle, and looked far ahead into the cavern of the night. He was silent awhile in thought. When he spoke again, he delivered himself of certain curt cogitations, characteristic confessions that were wholly logical.
"I am a selfish vagabond," he said; "I appeal to Peter's keys whether all ambition is not selfish. I am an egotist for the good of others. The stronger my ambition, the stronger the hope of the land in generous justice. I live to rule, to rule magnanimously, yet with an iron sceptre. There, you have my creed."
"And God?" she asked him.
"Is a most useful subordinate."