"I’mjustreadingBrowning，"heconfessed，"andit’sprettytough。I
　　haven’tgotveryfaralong，andasitisI’veaboutlostmybearings。"
　　Nottobetiresome，IshallsaythatIfetchedthebookfromhisstate—roomandread"Caliban"aloud。Hewasdelighted。Itwasaprimitivemodeofreasoningandoflookingatthingsthatheunderstoodthoroughly。Heinterruptedagainandagainwithcommentandcriticism。WhenIfinished，hehadmereaditoverasecondtime，andathird。Wefellintodiscussion——philosophy，science，evolution，religion。Hebetrayedtheinaccuraciesoftheself—readman，and，itmustbegranted，thesurenessanddirectnessoftheprimitivemind。Theverysimplicityofhisreasoningwasitsstrength，andhismaterialismwasfarmorecompellingthanthesubtlycomplexmaterialismofCharleyFuruseth。NotthatI，——aconfirmedand，asFurusethphrasedit，atemperamentalidealist，——wastobecompelled；butthatWolfLarsenstormedthelaststrongholdsofmyfaithwithavigorthatreceivedrespect，whilenotaccordedconviction。
　　Timepassed。Supperwasathandandthetablenotlaid。becamerestlessandanxious，andwhenThomasMugridgeglareddownthecompanionway，sickandangryofcountenance，Ipreparedtogoaboutmyduties。ButWolfLarsencriedouttohim：——
　　"Cooky，you’vegottohustleto—night。I’mbusywithHump，andyou’lldothebestyoucanwithouthim。"
　　Andagaintheunprecedentedwasestablished。ThatnightIsatattablewiththecaptainandthehunters，whileThomasMugridgewaitedonusandwashedthedishesafterward——awhim，aCaliban—moodofWolfLarsen’s，andoneIforesawwouldbringmetrouble。Inthemeantimewetalkedandtalked，muchtothedisgustofthehunters，whocouldnotunderstandaword。TheSeaWolf：Chapter9CHAPTER9
　　Threedaysofrest，threeblesseddaysofrest，arewhatIhadwithWolfLarsen，eatingatthecabintableanddoingnothingbutdiscusslife，literature，andtheuniverse，thewhileThomasMugridgefumedandragedanddidmyworkaswellashisown。
　　"Watchoutforsqualls，isallIcansaytoyou，"wasLouis’swarning，givenduringasparehalf—hourondeckwhileWolfLarsenwasengagedinstraighteningoutarowamongthehunters。
　　"Yecan’ttellwhat’llbehappenin’，"Louiswenton，inresponsetomyqueryformoredefiniteinformation。"Theman’sascontraryasaircurrentsorwatercurrents。Youcanneverguessthewaysivhim。’Tisjustasyou’rethinkin’youknowhimandaremakin’afavorableslantalonghim，thathewhirlsaround，deadahead，andcomeshowlin’downuponyouanda—rippin’
　　allivyourfine—weathersailstorags。"
　　SoIwasnotaltogethersurprisedwhenthesquallforetoldbyLouissmoteme。Wehadbeenhavingaheateddiscussion，——uponlife，ofcourse，——and，grownoverbold，IwaspassingstiffstricturesuponWolfLarsenandthelifeofWolfLarsen。Infact，Iwasvivisectinghimandturningoverhissoul—stuffaskeenlyandthoroughlyasitwashiscustomtodoittoothers。ItmaybeaweaknessofminethatIhaveanincisivewayofspeech；butIthrewallrestrainttothewindsandcutandslasheduntilthewholemanofhimwassnarling。Thedarksun—bronzeofhisfacewentblackwithwrath，hiseyeswereablaze。Therewasnoclearnessorsanityinthem——nothingbuttheterrificrageofamadman。ItwasthewolfinhimthatIsaw，andamadwolfatthat。
　　Hesprangformewithahalf—roar，grippingmyarm。Ihadsteeledmyselftobrazenitout，thoughIwastremblinginwardly；buttheenormousstrengthofthemanwastoomuchformyfortitude。Hehadgrippedmebythebicepswithhissinglehand，andwhenthatgriptightenedIwiltedandshriekedaloud。Myfeetwentoutfromunderme。Isimplycouldnotstanduprightandenduretheagony。Themusclesrefusedtheirduty。Thepainwastoogreat。Mybicepswasbeingcrushedtoapulp。
　　Heseemedtorecoverhimself，foralucidgleamcameintohiseyes，andherelaxedhisholdwithashortlaughthatwasmorelikeagrowl。
　　Ifelltothefloor，feelingveryfaint，whilehesatdown，lightedacigar，andwatchedmeasacatwatchesamouse。AsIwrithedaboutIcouldseeinhiseyesthatcuriosityIhadsooftennoted，thatwonderandperplexity，thatquesting，thateverlastingqueryofhisastowhatitwasallabout。
　　Ifinallycrawledtomyfeetandascendedthecompanionstairs。Fairweatherwasover，andtherewasnothingleftbuttoreturntothegalley。
　　Myleftarmwasnumb，asthoughparalyzed，anddayspassedbeforeIcoulduseit，whileweekswentbybeforethelaststiffnessandpainwentoutofit。Andhehaddonenothingbutputhishanduponmyarmandsqueeze。
　　Therehadbeennowrenchingorjerking。Hehadjustclosedhishandwithasteadypressure。WhathemighthavedoneIdidnotfullyrealizetillnextday，whenheputhisheadintothegalley，and，asasignofrenewedfriendliness，askedmehowmyarmwasgettingon。
　　"Itmighthavebeenworse，"hesmiled。
　　Iwaspeelingpotatoes。Hepickedoneupfromthepan。Itwasfair—sized，firm，andunpeeled。Heclosedhishanduponit，squeezed，andthepotatosquirtedoutbetweenhisfingersinmushystreams。Thepulpyremnanthedroppedbackintothepanandturnedaway，andIhadasharpvisionofhowitmighthavefaredwithmehadthemonsterputhisrealstrengthuponme。
　　Butthethreedays’restwasgoodinspiteofitall，forithadgivenmykneetheverychanceitneeded。Itfeltmuchbetter，theswellinghadmateriallydecreased，andthecapseemeddescendingintoitsproperplace。
　　Also，thethreedays’restbroughtthetroubleIhadforeseen。ItwasplainlyThomasMugridge’sintentiontomakemepayforthosethreedays。Hetreatedmevilely，cursedmecontinually，andheapedhisownworkuponme。Heevenventuredtoraisehisfisttome，butIwasbecominganimal—likemyself，andIsnarledinhisfacesoterriblythatitmusthavefrightenedhimback。ItisnopleasantpictureIcanconjureupofmyself，HumphreyVanWeyden，inthatnoisomeship’sgalley，crouchedinacornerovermytask，myfaceraisedtothefaceofthecreatureabouttostrikeme，mylipsliftedandsnarlinglikeadog’s，myeyesgleamingwithfearandhelplessnessandthecouragethatcomesoffearandhelplessness。Idonotlikethepicture。Itremindsmetoostronglyofaratinatrap。Idonotcaretothinkofit；butitwaseffective，forthethreatenedblowdidnotdescend。
　　ThomasMugridgebackedaway，glaringashatefullyandviciouslyasI
　　glared。Apairofbeastsiswhatwewere，pennedtogetherandshowingourteeth。Hewasacoward，afraidtostrikemebecauseIhadnotquailedsufficientlyinadvance；sohechoseanewwaytointimidateme。Therewasonlyonegalleyknifethat，asaknife，amountedtoanything。This，throughmanyyearsofserviceandwear，hadacquiredalong，leanblade。Itwasunusuallycruel—looking，andatfirstIhadshudderedeverytimeIusedit。ThecookborrowedastonefromJohansenandproceededtosharpentheknife。Hediditwithgreatostentation，glancingsignificantlyatmethewhile。Hewhetteditupanddownalldaylong。Everyoddmomenthecouldfindhehadtheknifeandstoneoutandwaswhettingaway。Thesteelacquiredarazoredge。
　　Hetrieditwiththeballofhisthumboracrossthenail。Heshavedhairsfromthebackofhishand，glancedalongtheedgewithmicroscopicacuteness，andfound，orfeignedthathefound，always，aslightinequalityinitsedgesomewhere。Thenhewouldputitonthestoneagainandwhet，whet，whet，tillIcouldhavelaughedaloud，itwassoveryludicrous。
　　Itwasalsoserious，forIlearnedthathewascapableofusingit，thatunderallhiscowardicetherewasacourageofcowardice，likemine，thatwouldimpelhimtodotheverythinghiswholenatureprotestedagainstdoingandwasafraidofdoing。"Cooky’ssharpeninghisknifeforHump，"
　　wasbeingwhisperedaboutamongthesailors，andsomeofthemtwittedhimaboutit。Thishetookingoodpart，andwasreallypleased，noddinghisheadwithdirefulforeknowledgeandmystery，untilGeorgeLeach，theerstwhilecabin—boy，venturedsomeroughpleasantryonthesubject。
　　NowithappenedthatLeachwasoneofthesailorstoldofftodouseMugridgeafterhisgameofcardswiththecaptain。LeachhadevidentlydonehistaskwithathoroughnessthatMugridgehadnotforgiven，forwordsfollowedandevilnamesinvolvingsmirchedancestries。Mugridgemenacedwiththeknifehewassharpeningforme。LeachlaughedandhurledmoreofhisTelegraphHillbillingsgate，andbeforeeitherheorIknewwhathadhappened，hisrightarmhadbeenrippedopenfromelbowtowristbyaquickslashoftheknife。Thecookbackedaway，afiendishexpressiononhisface，theknifeheldbeforehiminapositionofdefence。ButLeachtookitquitecalmly，thoughbloodwasspoutinguponthedeckasgenerouslyaswaterfromafountain。
　　"I’mgoin’togetyou，Cooky，"hesaid，"andI’llgetyouhard。AndIwon’tbeinnohurryaboutit。You’llbewithoutthatknifewhenIcomeforyou。"
　　Sosaying，heturnedandwalkedquietlyforward。Mugridge’sfacewaslividwithfearatwhathehaddoneandatwhathemightexpectsoonerorlaterfromthemanhehadstabbed。Buthisdemeanortowardmewasmoreferociousthanever。Inspiteofhisfearatthereckoninghemustexpecttopayforwhathehaddone，hecouldseethatithadbeenanobject—lessontome，andhebecamemoredomineeringandexultant。Alsotherewasalustinhim，akintomadness，whichhadcomewithsightofthebloodhehaddrawn。Hewasbeginningtoseeredinwhateverdirectionhelooked。Thepsychologyofitissadlytangled，andyetcouldreadtheworkingsofhismindasclearlyasthoughitwereaprintedbook。
　　Severaldayswentby，theGhoststillfoamingdownthetrades，andIcouldswearIsawmadnessgrowinginThomasMugridge’seyes。AndIconfessthatIbecameafraid，verymuchafraid。Whet，whet，whet，itwentalldaylong。Thelookinhiseyesashefeltthekeenedgeandglaredatmewaspositivelycarnivorous。Iwasafraidtoturnmyshouldertohim，andwhenIleftthegalleyIwentoutbackwards——totheamusementofthesailorsandhunters，whomadeapointofgatheringingroupstowitnessmyexit。Thestrainwastoogreat。sometimesthoughtmymindwouldgivewayunderit——ameetthingonthisshipofmadmenandbrutes。Everyhour，everyminuteofmyexistencewasinjeopardy。Iwasahumansoulindistress，andyetnosoul，foreoraft，betrayedsufficientsympathytocometomyaid。AttimesIthoughtofthrowingmyselfonthemercyofWolfLarsen，butthevisionofthemockingdevilinhiseyesthatquestionedlifeandsneeredatitwouldcomestronguponmeandcompelmetorefrain。AtothertimesIseriouslycontemplatedsuicide，andthewholeforceofmyhopefulphilosophywasrequiredtokeepmefromgoingoverthesideinthedarknessofnight。
　　SeveraltimesWolfLarsentriedtoinveiglemeintodiscussion，butIgavehimshortanswersandeludedhim。Finally，hecommandedmetoresumemyseatatthecabintableforatimeandletthecookdomywork。ThenIspokefrankly，tellinghimwhatIwasenduringfromThomasMugridgebecauseofthethreedaysoffavoritismwhichhadbeenshownme。WolfLarsenregardedmewithsmilingeyes。
　　"Soyou’reafraid，eh？"hesneered。
　　"Yes，"Isaiddefiantlyandhonestly，"Iamafraid。"
　　"That’sthewaywithyoufellows，"hecried，halfangrily，"sentimentalizingaboutyourimmortalsoulsandafraidtodie。AtsightofasharpknifeandacowardlyCockneytheclingingoflifetolifeovercomesallyourfondfoolishness。Why，mydearfellow，youwillliveforever。Youareagod，andGodcannotbekilled。Cookycannothurtyou。Youaresureofyourresurrection。What’stheretobeafraidof？
　　"Youhaveeternallifebeforeyou。Youareamillionnaireinimmortality，andamillionnairewhosefortunecannotbelost，whosefortuneislessperishablethanthestarsandaslastingasspaceortime。Itisimpossibleforyoutodiminishyourprincipal。Immortalityisathingwithoutbeginningorend。Eternityiseternity，andthoughyoudiehereandnowyouwillgoonlivingsomewhereelseandhereafter。Anditisallverybeautiful，thisshakingoffofthefleshandsoaringoftheimprisonedspirit。Cookycannothurtyou。Hecanonlygiveyouaboostonthepathyoueternallymusttread。
　　"Or，ifyoudonotwishtobeboostedjustyet，whynotboostCooky？
　　Accordingtoyourideas，he，too，mustbeanimmortalmillionnaire。Youcannotbankrupthim。Hispaperwillalwayscirculateatpar。Youcannotdiminishthelengthofhislivingbykillinghim，forheiswithoutbeginningorend。He’sboundtogoonliving，somewhere，somehow。Thenboosthim。
　　Stickaknifeinhimandlethisspiritfree。Asitis，it’sinanastyprison，andyou’lldohimonlyakindnessbybreakingdownthedoor。Andwhoknows？——itmaybeaverybeautifulspiritthatwillgosoaringupintothebluefromthatuglycarcass。Boosthimalong，andI’llpromoteyoutohisplace，andhe’sgettingforty—fivedollarsamonth。"
　　ItwasplainthatIcouldlookfornohelpormercyfromWolfLarsen。
　　WhateverwastobedoneImustdoformyself；andoutofthecourageoffearIevolvedtheplanoffightingThomasMugridgewithhisownweapons。
　　IborrowedawhetstonefromJohansen。Louis，theboat—steerer，hadalreadybeggedmeforcondensedmilkandsugar。Thelazarette，wheresuchdelicacieswerestored，wassituatedbeneaththecabinfloor。Watchingmychance，Istolefivecansofthemilk，andthatnight，whenitwasLouis’swatchondeck，Itradedthemwithhimforadirkasleanandcruel—lookingasThomasMugridge’svegetableknife。Itwasrustyanddull，butIturnedthegrindstonewhileLouisgaveitanedge。Isleptmoresoundlythanusualthatnight。
　　Nextmorning，afterbreakfast，ThomasMugridgebeganhiswhet，whet，whet。Iglancedwarilyathim，forIwasonmykneestakingtheashesfromthestove。WhenIreturnedfromthrowingthemoverside，hewastalkingtoHarrison，whosehonestyokel’sfacewasfilledwithfascinationandwonder。
　　"Yes，"Mugridgewassaying，"an’wotdoes’isworshipdobutgivemetwoyearsinReading。ButblimeyifIcared。Theothermugwasfixedplenty。
　　Should’aseen’im。Knifejustlikethis。Istuckitin，likeintosoftbutter，an’thew’y’esquealedwasbetter’natu—pennygaff。"HeshotaglanceinmydirectiontoseeifIwastakingitin，andwenton。"`I
　　didn’tmeanit，Tommy，’’ewassnifflin’；`so’elpmeGawd，Ididn’tmeanit！’`I’llfixyerbloodywellright，’Isez，an’keptrightafter’im。
　　Icut’iminribbons，that’swotIdid，an’’ea—squealin’allthetime。
　　Once’egot’is’andontheknifean’triedto’oldit。’Ad’isfingersaroundit，butIpulleditthrough，cuttin’tothebone。O，’ewasasight，Icantellyer。"
　　Acallfromthemateinterruptedthegorynarrative，andHarrisonwentaft。Mugridgesatdownontheraisedthresholdtothegalleyandwentonwithhisknife—sharpening。Iputtheshovelawayandcalmlysatdownonthecoal—boxfacinghim。Hefavoredmewithaviciousstare。Stillcalmly，thoughmyheartwasgoingpitapat，pulledoutLouis’sdirkandbegantowhetitonthestone。IhadlookedforalmostanysortofexplosionontheCockney’spart，buttomysurprisehedidnotappearawareofwhatIwasdoing。Hewentonwhettinghisknife。SodidI。Andfortwohourswesatthere，facetoface，whet，whet，whet，tillthenewsofitspreadabroadandhalftheship’scompanywascrowdingthegalleydoorstoseethesight。
　　Encouragementandadvicewerefreelytendered，andJockHorner，thequiet，self—spokenhunterwholookedasthoughhewouldnotharmamouse，advisedmetoleavetheribsaloneandtothrustupwardfortheabdomen，atthesametimegivingwhathecalledthe"Spanishtwist"totheblade。
　　Leach，hisbandagedarmprominentlytothefore，beggedmetoleaveafewremnantsofthecookforhim；andWolfLarsenpausedonceortwiceatthebreakofthepooptoglancecuriouslyatwhatmusthavebeentohimastirringandcrawlingoftheyeastythingheknewaslife。
　　AndImakefreetosaythatforthetimebeinglifeassumedthesamesordidvaluestome。Therewasnothingprettyaboutit，nothingdivine——onlytwocowardlymovingthingsthatsatwhettingsteeluponstone，andagroupofothermovingthings，cowardlyandotherwise，thatlookedon。Halfofthem，Iamsure，wereanxioustoseeussheddingeachother’sblood。Itwouldhavebeenentertainment。AndIdonotthinktherewasonewhowouldhaveinterferedhadweclosedinadeath—struggle。
　　Ontheotherhand，thewholethingwaslaughableandchildish。Whet，whet，whet，——HumphreyVanWeydensharpeninghisknifeinaship’sgalleyandtryingitsedgewithhisthumb！Ofallsituationsthiswasthemostinconceivable。Iknowthatmyownkindcouldnothavebelieveditpossible。
　　Ihadnotbeencalled"Sissy"VanWeydenallmydayswithoutreason，andthat"Sissy"VanWeydenshouldbecapableofdoingthisthingwasarevelationtoHumphreyVanWeyden，whoknewnotwhethertobeexultantorashamed。
　　Butnothinghappened。AttheendoftwohoursThomasMugridgeputawayknifeandstoneandheldouthishand。
　　"Wot’sthegoodofmykin’a’olyshowofourselvesforthemmugs？"hedemanded。"Theydon’tloveus，an’bloodywellgladthey’dbea—seein’
　　uscuttin’ourthroats。Yernot’arfbad，’Ump！You’vegotspunk，asyouYankss’y，an’Ilikeyerinaw’y。Socomeonan’shyke。"
　　CowardthatImightbe，Iwaslessacowardthanhe。ItwasadistinctvictoryIhadgained，andIrefusedtoforegoanyofitbyshakinghisdetestablehand。
　　"Allright，"hesaidpridelessly，"tykeitorleaveit，I’lllikeyernonethelessforit。"Andtosavehisfaceheturnedfiercelyupontheonlookers。"Getoutamygalley—doors，youbloomin’swabs！"
　　Thiscommandwasreinforcedbyasteamingkettleofwater，andatsightofitthesailorsscrambledoutoftheway。ThiswasasortofvictoryforThomasMugridge，andenabledhimtoacceptmoregracefullythedefeatIhadgivenhim，though，ofcourse，hewastoodiscreettoattempttodrivethehuntersaway。
　　"IseeCooky’sfinish，"IheardSmokesaytoHorner。
　　"Youbet，"wasthereply。"Humprunsthegalleyfromnowon，andCookypullsinhishorns。"
　　Mugridgeheardandshotaswiftglanceatme，butIgavenosignthattheconversationhadreachedme。Ihadnotthoughtmyvictorywassofar—reachingandcomplete，butIresolvedtoletgonothingIhadgained。Asthedayswentby，Smoke’sprophecywasverified。TheCockneybecamemorehumbleandslavishtomethaneventoWolfLarsen。Imisteredhimandsirredhimnolonger，washednomoregreasypots，andpeelednomorepotatoes。Ididmyownwork，andmyownworkonly，andwhenandinwhatfashionIsawfit。
　　Also，Icarriedthedirkinasheathatmyhip，sailor—fashion，andmaintainedtowardThomasMugridgeaconstantattitudewhichwascomposedofequalpartsofdomineering，insult，andcontempt。TheSeaWolf：Chapter10CHAPTER10
　　MyintimacywithWolfLarsenincreases——ifbyintimacymaybedenotedthoserelationswhichexistbetweenmasterandman，or，betteryet，betweenkingandjester。Iamtohimnomorethanatoy，andhevaluesmenomorethanachildvaluesatoy。Myfunctionistoamuse，andsolongasIamuseallgoeswell；butlethimbecomebored，orlethimhaveoneofhisblackmoodscomeuponhim，andatonceIamrelegatedfromcabintabletogalley，while，atthesametime，Iamfortunatetoescapewithmylifeandawholebody。
　　Thelonelinessofthemanisslowlybeingborneinuponme。Thereisnotamanaboardbuthatesorfearshim，noristhereamanwhomhedoesnotdespise。Heseemsconsumingwiththetremendouspowerthatisinhimandthatseemsnevertohavefoundadequateexpressioninworks。HeisasLuciferwouldbe，werethatproudspiritbanishedtoasocietyofsoulless，Tomlinsonianghosts。
　　Thislonelinessisbadenoughinitself，but，tomakeitworse，heisoppressedbytheprimalmelancholyoftherace。Knowinghim，reviewtheoldScandinavianmythswithclearerunderstanding。Thewhite—skinned，fair—hairedsavageswhocreatedthatterriblepantheonwereofthesamefibreashe。
　　Thefrivolityofthelaughter—lovingLatinsisnopartofhim。Whenhelaughsitisfromahumorthatisnothingelsethanferocious。Buthelaughsrarely；heistoooftensad。Anditisasadnessasdeep—reachingastherootsoftherace。Itistheraceheritage，thesadnesswhichhasmadetheracesober—minded，clean—lived，andfanaticallymoral，andwhich，inthislatterconnection，hasculminatedamongtheEnglishintheReformedChurchandMrs。Grundy。
　　Inpointoffact，thechiefventtothisprimalmelancholyhasbeenreligioninitsmoreagonizingforms。ButthecompensationsofsuchreligionaredeniedWolfLarsen。Hisbrutalmaterialismwillnotpermitit。So，whenhisbluemoodscomeon，nothingremainsforhimbuttobedevilish。
　　Werehenotsoterribleaman，Icouldsometimesfeelsorryforhim，asinstancethreemorningsago，whenIwentintohisstate—roomtofillhiswater—bottleandcameunexpectedlyuponhim。Hedidnotseeme。Hisheadwasburiedinhishands，andhisshoulderswereheavingconvulsivelyaswithsobs。Heseemedtornbysomemightygrief。AsIsoftlywithdrewI
　　couldhearhimgroaning，"God！God！God！"NotthathewascallinguponGod；itwasamereexpletive，butitcamefromhissoul。
　　Atdinnerheaskedthehuntersforaremedyforheadache，andbyevening，strongmanthathewas，hewashalf—blindandreelingaboutthecabin。
　　"I’veneverbeensickinmylife，Hump，"hesaid，asIguidedhimtohisroom。"NordidIeverhaveaheadacheexceptthetimemyheadwashealingafterhavingbeenlaidopenforsixinchesbyacapstan—bar。"
　　Forthreedaysthisblindingheadachelasted，andhesufferedaswildanimalssuffer，asitseemedthewayonshiptosuffer，withoutplaint，withoutsympathy，utterlyalone。
　　Thismorning，however，onenteringhisstate—roomtomakethebedandputthingsinorder，Ifoundhimwellandhardatwork。Tableandbunkwerelitteredwithdesignsandcalculations。Onalargetransparentsheet，compassandsquareinhand，hewascopyingwhatappearedtobeascaleofsomesortorother。
　　"Hello，Hump，"hegreetedmegenially。"I’mjustfinishingthefinishingtouches。Wanttoseeitwork？"
　　"Butwhatisit？"Iasked。
　　"Alabor—savingdeviceformariners，navigationreducedtokindergartensimplicity，"heansweredgayly。"Fromto—dayachildwillbeabletonavigateaship。Nomorelong—windedcalculations。Allyouneedisonestarintheskyonadirtynighttoknowinstantlywhereyouare。Look。Iplacethetransparentscaleonthisstar—map，revolvingthescaleontheNorthPole。
　　OnthescaleI’veworkedoutthecirclesofaltitudeandthelinesofbearing。
　　AllIdoistoputitonastar，revolvethescaletillitisoppositethosefiguresonthemapunderneath，andpresto！thereyouare，theship’spreciselocation！"
　　Therewasaringoftriumphinhisvoice，andhiseyes，clearbluethismorningasthesea，weresparklingwithlight。
　　"Youmustbewellupinmathematics，"Isaid。"Wheredidyougotoschool？"
　　"Neversawtheinsideofone，worseluck，"wastheanswer。"hadtodigitoutformyself。"
　　"AndwhydoyouthinkIhavemadethisthing？"hedemanded，abruptly。
　　"Dreamingtoleavefootprintsonthesandsoftime？"Helaughedoneofhishorriblemockinglaughs。"Notatall。Togetitpatented，tomakemoneyfromit，torevelinpiggishnesswithallnightinwhileothermendothework。That’smypurpose。Also，Ihaveenjoyedworkingitout。"
　　"Thecreativejoy，"Imurmured。
　　"Iguessthat’swhatitoughttobecalled。Whichisanotherwayofexpressingthejoyoflifeinthatitisalive，thetriumphofmovementovermatter，ofthequickoverthedead，theprideoftheyeastbecauseitisyeastandcrawls。"
　　Ithrewupmyhandswithhelplessdisapprovalofhisinveteratematerialismandwentaboutmakingthebed。Hecontinuedcopyinglinesandfiguresuponthetransparentscale。Itwasataskrequiringtheutmostnicetyandprecision，andIcouldnotbutadmirethewayhetemperedhisstrengthtothefinenessanddelicacyoftheneed。
　　WhenIhadfinishedthebed，Icaughtmyselflookingathiminafascinatedsortofway。Hewascertainlyahandsomeman——beautifulinthemasculinesense。Andagain，withnever—failingwonder，remarkedthetotallackofviciousness，orwickedness，orsinfulness，inhisface。Itwastheface，Iamconvinced，ofamanwhodidnowrong。AndbythisIdonotwishtobemisunderstood。WhatImeanisthatitwasthefaceofamanwhoeitherdidnothingcontrarytothedictatesofhisconscience，orwhohadnoconscience。
　　Iaminclinedtothelatterwayofaccountingforit。Hewasamagnificentatavism，amansopurelyprimitivethathewasofthetypethatcameintotheworldbeforethedevelopmentofthemoralnature。Hewasnotimmoral，butmerelyunmoral。
　　AsIhavesaid，inthemasculinesensehiswasabeautifulface。Smooth—shaven，everylinewasdistinct，anditwascutasclearandsharpasacameo；
　　whileseaandsunhadtannedthenaturallyfairskintoadarkbronzewhichbespokestruggleandbattleandaddedbothtohissavageryandhisbeauty。
　　Thelipswerefull，yetpossessedofthefirmness，almostharshness，whichischaracteristicofthinlips。Thesetofhismouth，hischin，hisjaw，waslikewisefirmorharsh，withallthefiercenessandindomitablenessofthemale——thenosealso。Itwasthenoseofabeingborntoconquerandcommand。Itjusthintedoftheeaglebeak。ItmighthavebeenGrecian，itmighthavebeenRoman，onlyitwasashadetoomassivefortheone，ashadetoodelicatefortheother。Andwhilethewholefacewastheincarnationoffiercenessandstrength，theprimalmelancholyfromwhichhesufferedseemedtogreatenthelinesofmouthandeyeandbrow，seemedtogivealargenessandcompletenesswhichotherwisethefacewouldhavelacked。