"You are right," said Kuhl, "the world, once for all, belongs to cannibals, and the religion of love and peace, despite more than a thousand years' reign, has not been able to eradicate manslaughter. And so long as it is prosecuted on a large scale for the sake of a morsel of land, or questions of lofty etiquette and political politeness, one can really not object, when, on a small scale, people go to war with one another for considerations of honour; at least, it is a cheaper pleasure, and does not cost the blood of nations." "In my duel, dear Kuhl," said Blanden, "in the first place a woman's honour is concerned, and it is much more easily injured. As some birds in Hindoostan, according to the opinions of the people, only live upon the drops of rain which fall from the clouds, so do women only live upon that heavenly refreshment which lies in the delicate sense of their honour." "Nonsense," said Kuhl, "people scorn the world's opinion." "Then one must live upon a desert island, like Robinson Crusoe." "Every truly free man is a Robinson who does not require mankind. A robinsonade in society, it is that which is right, therein lies the guarantee of happiness." "Women must not have that wish; through it they would fool away the happiness of their life." "Who can deprive them of the happiness that they conquer boldly?" "True! Listen to me; at such moments a man thinks more seriously upon many things. I am about to fight for a woman's honour, you make game of it." "Blanden," cried Kuhl, jumping up. "My voice has more weight now, for that which I say to you may be my last testament. You deprive two girls of their good name, the sole guarantee which they possess for the peace of a later life. Now they may play and joke, some day earnestness and loneliness will come." "Well, the one has already retired from me; Olga threatens to become untrue to me." "Possibly, then, all the more grave is your duty to the other, who now defies the world's opinion; be it from folly, be it from passion, later, however, she will lament that she did so, when, after a short intoxication, she must lead a long, joyless, poverty-stricken life. You have no duties; one day you will forsake her entirely, and she will be left to gaze into long, lasting misery. She has rejected one honest wooer." "You speak of your friend Wegen!" "I speak of what my heart feels. I am, perhaps, about to sacrifice my life to one woman, therefore you can surely sacrifice your theories to another. A man may become a martyr to his faith, but he may not make others so." Kuhl was silent, it was a disagreeable conversation on a disagreeable morning; he must allow that Blanden was right, it was the way of the world. He shivered; the narrowness of a subject's life seemed to oppress him.