He had wandered aimlessly along a smooth path,
cut off from the world, plucking such fruits and flowers as offered
themselves within his reach, deaf to the cries of those to whom his
highest efforts should have been dedicated. He had dreamed where he
should have acted, slept where he should have watched and labored
unceasingly, yet it was not too late. He felt how his whole
dream-world shivered beneath the convulsions of his awakening
energies. The vague, futile, uneasy longings of his immaturity took
definite shape. His shackled abilities awaited only the signal to
throw off their fetters and in freedom to create good for the whole
world.
"You have shown me possibilities of which I never dreamed," he said to
Travers. "I must speak to you again, and soon, for if things are as
you say, then time enough has been wasted. But not tonight. Tomorrow I
will see you--or no, not tomorrow--the day after. I must have time to
think."
The waltz had died sentimentally into silence, and he made a gesture
indicating that he wished to return to the ball-room. Yet on the
threshold he hesitated and drew back.
"The light and confusion trouble me," he said, passing his hand over
his eyes, "and my mind is full of new thoughts. If you will permit, I
will take my leave. My servants are waiting outside, and if you will
carry my thanks to my other hosts, I should prefer to go unnoticed."
"It is as you wish, Rajah Sahib," Travers returned, "It is we who have
to thank you for partaking of our poor hospitality.
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