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254ARIADNE.humble before me as a slave before his master,he, — who had treated the world as a clog, andlashed it and kicked it,and had hadit fawn onhim the more, for all his careless and audaciousinsolence." You must say what you choose," he muttered." It is waste of words. You cannot say to mewhatIhave not merited. Ihave taken a lifethat was beside my own, as Christ's beside aSatyr's!— "His face had a strange convulsion onit;theblood seemed toburn onhis brow, and leave hislips an ashen white ; he put his hand to histhroat as though some other hand were there andchokinghim." Go and forget,"Isaid to him." Ithasbeen— your boast you have nomemories, you do notchoose to have;you havemocked atpooriUiteratefools who spoke of regret or conscience. Go;write a poemon it; you have often said the poetshould use the sufferings of others for his lamp,as, southward, they kill fireflies to read with:that is all."" A'ou are cruel," he said simply, and with his