“Well,” said Roper, “he will be detained to stand his trial; that will end, perhaps, better than you think.” And he seated himself quietly at the oars; because Roper, always disposed to hope for the best in the future, concluded that Margaret, doubtless frightened at the imposing appearance of justice, believed Sir Thomas to be in far greater danger than he really was; and, following the thread of his own thoughts, he added aloud: “Men are men, and Margaret is a woman.” “What would you say by that?” she asked with energy. “Do you mean to say that I am your inferior, and that my nature is lower than your own? What do you mean by saying ‘a woman’? Yes, I am inferior, but only in the animal strength which enables you to row at this moment and make me mount the wave that carries me. I am your inferior in cruelty, indifference, and selfishness. Ah! if I were a man like you, and could only retain under your form all the vigor of my soul and the fearlessness with which I feel myself transported, you would see if my father remained alone, abandoned without resistance in the depths of the prison where I saw him led; and if the oppressor should not, in his turn, fear the voice of the oppressed; and if this nation, which you call a nation of _men_, should be allowed to slaughter its own children!” “Margaret,” said Roper, alarmed, “calm yourself.” “I must sleep, I suppose, in order to please you, when I see my father delivered into the hands of his enemies! He is lost, I tell you, and you will not believe it, and I can do nothing for him. Of what good is courage to one who cannot use it? Of what use is strength, if one can only wish for it? To fret one’s self in the night of impossibility; to see, to hear, and have power to do nothing. This is the punishment I must endure for ever! Nothing to lean upon! Everything will fall around me. He is condemned, they will say; there will be only one human creature less! That will be my father!” And Margaret, standing up in the middle of the boat, her hair dishevelled, her eyes fixed, seemed to see the wretchedness she was describing. The wind blew violently, and scattered the curls of her dark hair around her burning face. “Margaret,” cried Roper, running to her and taking her in his arms――“Margaret, are you dreaming? What would your father say if he knew you had thus abandoned yourself to despair?” “He would say,” replied Margaret, “that we must despise the world and place our trust in Heaven; he would recall resignation into my exasperated soul. But shall I see him henceforth? Who will aid me in supporting the burdens of this life, against which, in my misery, I revolt every instant? Oh! if I could only share his chains. Then, near him, I would brave tyrants, tortures, hell, and the devils combined! The strength of my will would shake the earth, when I cannot turn over a single stone!”