So with your song there. It is the
spirit of devotion, gathered, it may be, from a thousand flowers,
and made into an essence, which is offered to one only. It is not
the worship of this one, but the worship of a thousand distilled at
last to one delicate liturgy. So much for sentiment," he continued.
"Upon my soul, Captain Moray, you are a boon. I love to have you
caged. I shall watch your distressed career to its close with deep
scrutiny. You and I are wholly different, but you are interesting.
You never could be great. Pardon the egotism, but it is truth. Your
brain works heavily, you are too tenacious of your conscience, you
are a blunderer. You will always sow, and others will reap."
I waved my hand in deprecation, for I was in no mood for further
talk, and I made no answer. He smiled at me, and said, "Well, since
you doubt my theories, let us come, as your Shakespeare says, to
Hecuba.... If you will come with me," he added, as he opened my
cell door, and motioned me courteously to go outside. I drew back,
and he said, "There is no need to hesitate; I go to show you merely
what will interest you."
We passed in silence through the corridors, two sentinels
attending, and at last came into a large square room, wherein stood
three men with hands tied over their heads against the wall, their
faces twitching with pain.
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