but I have thrust it away too long, and I must accept it now and henceforth.  This, and not luxurious Broadway; this, and not the comfortable New England village, is the normal type of human life; and this is the model city!—­Armed industry, which tills the corn and vine among the cannons’ mouths; which never forgets their need, though it may mask and beautify their terror:  but knows that as long as cruelty and wrong exist on earth, man’s destiny is to dare and suffer, and, if it must be so, to die....

“Yes, I will face my work; my danger, if need be.  I will find Marie.  I will tell her that I accept her quest; not for her sake, but for its own.  Only I will demand the right to work at it as I think best, patiently, moderately, wisely if I can; for a fanatic I cannot be, even for her sake.  She may hate these slaveholders,—­she may have her reasons,—­but I cannot.  I cannot deal with them as feras naturae.  I cannot deny that they are no worse men than I; that I should have done what they are doing, have said what they are saying, had I been bred up, as they have been, with irresponsible power over the souls and bodies of human beings.  God!  I shudder at the fancy!  The brute that I might have been—­that I should have been!

“Yes; one thing at least I have learnt, in all my experiments on poor humanity;—­never to see a man do a wrong thing, without feeling that I could do the same in his place.  I used to pride myself on that once, fool that I was, and call it comprehensiveness.  I used to make it an excuse for sitting by, and seeing the devil have it all his own way, and call that toleration.  I will see now whether I cannot turn the said knowledge to a better account, as common sense, patience, and charity; and yet do work of which neither I nor my country need be ashamed.”

He walked down, and on to the bridge of boats.  They opened in the centre; as he reached it a steamer was passing.  He lounged on the rail as the boat passed through, looking carelessly at the groups of tourists.

Two ladies were standing on the steamer; close to him; looking up at Ehrenbreitstein.  Was it?—­yes, it was Sabina, and Marie by her!

But ah, how changed!  The cheeks were pale and hollow; dark rings—­he could see them but too plainly as the face was lifted up toward the light—­were round those great eyes, bright no longer.  Her face was listless, careworn; looking all the more sad and impassive by the side of Sabina’s, as she pointed smiling and sparkling, up to the fortress; and seemed trying to interest Marie in it, but in vain.

He called out.  He waved his hand wildly, to the amusement of the officers and peasants who waited by his side; and who, looking first at his excited face, and then at the two beautiful women, were not long in making up their minds about him; and had their private jests accordingly.

They did not see him, but turned away to look at Coblentz; and the steamer swept by.