It makes so little difference which,--either way the Red Mouse has been
there the evening towards this little rush-covered hut, he forgot the Red
Mouse, and began vaguely to see that there are creatures of his mother's
sex from whom the beast of the Brocken slinks away.
But he still said to himself, "Nevertheless." "Nevertheless,"--for he
knew well that when the steel cuts the silk, when the hound hunts the
fawn, when the snake wooes the bird, when the king covets the vineyard,
there is only one end possible at any time. It is the strong against the
weak, the fierce against the feeble, the subtle against the simple, the
master against the slave; there is no equality in the contest and no
justice--it is merely inevitable, and the issue of it is written.
CHAPTER XI.
The next day she had her promised book hidden under the vine-leaves of
her empty basket as she went homeward, and though she had not seen him
very long or spoken to him very much, she was happy.
The golden gates of knowledge had just opened to her; she saw a faint,
far-off glimpse of the Hesperides gardens within; of the dragon she had
never heard, and had no fear.
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