FERRAND. Don't say that, Monsieur! It is too much the echo of my heart. WELLWYN. Forgive me! I didn't mean to pain you. FERRAND. [Drawing nearer the fire.] That old cabby, Monsieur, you remember--they tell me, he nearly succeeded to gain happiness the other day. [WELLWYN nods.] FERRAND. And those Sirs, so interested in him, with their theories? He has worn them out? [WELLWYN nods.] That goes without saying. And now they wish for him the lethal chamber. WELLWYN. [Startled.] How did you know that? [There is silence.] FERRAND. [Staring into the fire.] Monsieur, while I was on the road this time I fell ill of a fever. It seemed to me in my illness that I saw the truth--how I was wasting in this world--I would never be good for any one--nor any one for me--all would go by, and I never of it--fame, and fortune, and peace, even the necessities of life, ever mocking me. [He draws closer to the fire, spreading his fingers to the flame. And while he is speaking, through the doorway MRS. MEGAN creeps in to listen.] FERRAND. [Speaking on into the fire.] And I saw, Monsieur, so plain, that I should be vagabond all my days, and my days short, I dying in the end the death of a dog. I saw it all in my fever-- clear as that flame--there was nothing for us others, but the herb of death. [WELLWYN takes his arm and presses it.] And so, Monsieur, I wished to die. I told no one of my fever. I lay out on the ground--it was verree cold. But they would not let me die on the roads of their parishes--they took me to an Institution, Monsieur, I looked in their eyes while I lay there, and I saw more clear than the blue heaven that they thought it best that I should die, although they would not let me. Then Monsieur, naturally my spirit rose, and I said: "So much the worse for you. I will live a little more." One is made like that! Life is sweet, Monsieur. WELLWYN. Yes, Ferrand; Life is sweet. FERRAND. That little girl you had here, Monsieur [WELLWYN nods.] in her too there is something of wild-savage. She must have joy of life. I have seen her since I came back. She has embraced the life of joy. It is not quite the same thing. [He lowers his voice.] She is lost, Monsieur, as a stone that sinks in water. I can see, if she cannot. [As WELLWYN makes a movement of distress.] Oh! I am not to blame for that, Monsieur. It had well begun before I knew her. WELLWYN. Yes, yes--I was afraid of it, at the time. [MRS. MEGAN turns silently, and slips away.] FEERRAND. I do my best for her, Monsieur, but look at me! Besides, I am not good for her--it is not good for simple souls to be with those who see things clear. For the great part of mankind, to see anything--is fatal. WELLWYN. Even for you, it seems.