“Away? Where?” she asked, astonished.
“Anywhere. The world is so big! Why do you persist in living in the one spot where people know you and have a bad opinion of you? Go away from here. There are countries with more generous sentiments than these old corners of the world. You do not consider yourself infamous or vile.”
“No, no.”
“Then go away from here. To America, to Australia, anywhere. Perhaps you can reconstruct your life. At any rate, nobody will call you by your nickname; nobody will talk familiarly to you. You will conquer or you will be conquered in the struggle for life. That’s evident. You will share the common lot, but you will not be vilified. Do go.”
“The Cub-Slut” listened to Cæsar with eyes cast down. When he ceased, she stood looking at him intently, and then, without a word, she disappeared.
XVI. PITY, A MASK OF COWARDICE
THE MOTHER
Some days later Cæsar was in his office, when a thin old woman, dressed in black, shot in, crossed the room, and fell on her knees before him. Cæsar jumped up in disgust.
“What’s this? What’s going on here?” he asked.