He knew that he was hurting her, but his insurgent youth demanded its right of speech after long repression. "I'm a man," he cried, "and I want to do a man's work in the world and take a man's place. Just because my ancestors chose to slave in a treadmill, I don't have to stay in it, do I? You have no right to keep me chained up here!" [Sidenote: Released] The clock ticked loudly in the hall, the canary hopped noisily about his cage and chirped shrilly. A passing breeze came through the open window and tinkled the prisms that hung from the chandelier. It sounded like the echo of some far-away bell. "No," said Madame, dully. "As you say, I have no right to keep you chained up here." "Mother!" he cried, with swift remorse. "Don't misunderstand me!" She raised her hand and motioned him to the chair opposite. "Your language is sufficiently explicit," she went on, clearing her throat. "There is no chance for anyone to misunderstand you. I am very sorry that I--I have not seen, that you have been obliged to ask for release from an--unpleasant--position. Go--whenever you choose." He stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. "Mother! Oh, Mother!" he whispered. "Do you really mean it? Where shall we go?" "'We,'" she repeated. "Now I do misunderstand you." "Why, Mother! What do you mean? Of course we shall go together!" Madame rose from her chair, with some difficulty. "You have said," she went on, choosing her words carefully, "that I had no right to keep you chained up here. I admit it--I have not. Equally, you have no right to uproot me." [Sidenote: One's Own Choice] "But, Mother! Why, I couldn't go without you, and leave you alone. We belong together, you and I!" The hard lines of her mouth relaxed, ever so little, but her eyes were very dark and stern. "As much as we belong together," she resumed, "we belong here. Dead hands built this house, dead hands laid out that vineyard, dead hands have given us our work. If we fail, we betray the trust of those who have gone before us--we have nothing to give to those who come. "I've seen," she continued, with rising passion. "You were determined from the first to fail!" "Fail!" he echoed, with lips that scarcely moved. "Yes, for no man fails except by his own choice. You might have been master of the vineyard, but you have preferred to have the vineyard master you. Confronted with an uncongenial task, you slunk away from it and shielded yourself behind the sophistry that the work was unworthy of you. As if any work were unworthy of a man!" "I hate it," he murmured, resentfully.