The fisherman made a rude reply, and high words followed. Brusque ordered the fisherman to quit his cave. The fisherman told Brusque to leave it himself. Their faces were full of red wrath. Anger begets anger. The fisherman struck Brusque a blow. Brusque retaliated, and being a powerful man, he instantly stretched the fisherman on the ground. He was completely stunned, and lay without motion, seeming actually to be dead. Brusque’s anger was too high for the immediate return of reason. He looked on the pale form with a feeling of delight, and spoke some words of triumph between his firm-set teeth. But this feeling soon passed away, and a better one returned. Believing that the fisherman was dead, he now began to feel regret and remorse. Already was that monitor within, called conscience, telling him that he had violated a universal law, a law enacted by the Maker of man, and whispered into every man’s bosom. Already Brusque felt that while a fellow-being was on the island, he was not absolutely free; that this fellow-being had rights as well as himself; that he had a right to his life, and that in taking it away he had done a great wrong to justice, to liberty, and himself. While these thoughts were passing in his mind, the fisherman moved, and showed signs of returning life. Brusque was again full of joy, and fetching some water, sprinkled it over the man’s face. In a short time he so far recovered as to sit upright, and soon after he was able to walk about. Brusque led him to the cave, where, lying down, the fisherman fell asleep. Brusque now left him, and walked forth by himself. He was of a reflecting turn, and from his training in the revolution, his reflections often took a political cast. On this occasion, his thoughts ran thus:-- “What a strange creature I am! A few weeks since, I was mad with joy at the arrival of this fisherman; soon he became the tyrant of my life; I then wished him dead; and when I thought I had killed him, my heart smote me, and I was more miserable than if death had stared me in the face. He is now alive again, and I am relieved of a load; and yet, in the midst of this happiness, which seems born of misery, I still feel a strange sadness at my heart. “When I was alone, I was perfectly free, but I soon found that freedom, without society, was like the waters of the river, near which Tantalus was so chained that he could not drink, thus dying of thirst with a flood before his eyes. “I therefore yearned for society, and then I had it by the arrival of this fisherman. But he became a torment to me. What then is the difficulty? I believe it is the want of some rules, by which we may regulate our conduct. Though there are but two of us, still we find it necessary to enter into a compact. We must form a government, we must submit to laws, rules, and regulations. We must each submit to the abridgment of some portion of our liberty, some portion of our privileges, in order to secure the rest.”