‘I hope they will be kind to you,’ said Paul.
’No;—but I will be kind to them. I have conquered others by being kind, but I have never had much kindness myself. Did I not conquer you, sir, by being gentle and gracious to you? Ah, how kind I was to that poor wretch, till he lost himself in drink! And then, Paul, I used to think of better people, perhaps of softer people, of things that should be clean and sweet and gentle,—of things that should smell of lavender instead of wild garlic. I would dream of fair, feminine women,—of women who would be scared by seeing what I saw, who would die rather than do what I did. And then I met you, Paul, and I said that...