‘I hope they will be kind to you,’ said Paul.

’No;—­but I will be kind to them.  I have conquered others by being kind, but I have never had much kindness myself.  Did I not conquer you, sir, by being gentle and gracious to you?  Ah, how kind I was to that poor wretch, till he lost himself in drink!  And then, Paul, I used to think of better people, perhaps of softer people, of things that should be clean and sweet and gentle,—­of things that should smell of lavender instead of wild garlic.  I would dream of fair, feminine women,—­of women who would be scared by seeing what I saw, who would die rather than do what I did.  And then I met you, Paul, and I said that...