I did not believe
that I could bear the reality."
He bent his head wearily on his hand, and there followed an instant's
silence in which Travers thoughtfully studied his companion. He was
wondering what cross-current of influence had flowed into the stream
on which he meant to sweep the prince toward his purpose. Any idea of
relinquishing his plans had evaporated; the very suggestion of another
influence having been sufficient to put him on his mettle and call to
life the full energy of his headstrong ambition. He had the tact,
however, to remain silent, and to leave Nehal's train of thought
uninterrupted. And this required considerable patience and
self-control, for the Rajah seemed to forget his existence, and sat
staring vacantly in front of him, his head still resting on his hand.
"Yes," he went on suddenly, but without changing his position, "that
is what I felt two nights ago. The practical, hard side of me seemed
lacking. I felt that I was a dreamer, like the rest of my unfortunate
race, and that to enter into battle with the world, as you suggested,
could only bring misfortune. I did not realize then that, at whatever
cost, it was my duty."
"Duty?"
"Yes. A dreamer has no right to his dreams, be they ever so beautiful,
unless he changes them into substance. In my dreams I have loved the
world and my fellow-creatures. But what does that avail me if I do
nothing for the suffering and sorrow with which the world is filled? I
must go out and help.
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