Well, I loved you almost as much as I loved my wife
and children, but from to-day you are only a political number--for
friendship you must look to some one else. You know I have no
scruples; a man rubs among the people and he rubs off many things; but
you have heaped up the measure. May I be hanged if I do not prefer to
love the people than pound them! They say that honesty and politics
are two different things. Elsewhere it may be so, but in our country
we must harmonize them. Why should they not go together? I do not give
up our ideas, but I do not care for our friendship because the man who
says he loves humanity, and then pounds the people threateningly on
their heads--that man is a liar; do you understand me?
Doctor.--I shall not insist upon your giving me back your friendship,
but you must listen to me for the last time. If there shall begin for
me an epoch of calamity, it will begin at the moment when such people
as you begin to desert me. The man who was killed was in my way to
happiness--he took everything from me. He came armed with wealth, good
name, social position, and all the invincible arms which birth and
fortune give. With what arms could I fight him? What could I oppose
to such might? Nothing except the arms of a new man--that bit of
intelligence acquired by hard work and effort. He declared a mute war
on me. I have defended myself. With what? With the arms which nature
has given me.
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