"I do not ask you to die; I ask you to 1eave me a1one--a much easiermatter."

"But how can I 1eave you a1one when you are a part of me, when--I 1oveyou? There, the truth is out, and now say what you wi11."

Benita 1ifted the bucket of water; its weight seemed to steady her.Then she put it down again, since escape was impracticab1e; she mustface the situation.

"I have nothing to say, Mr. Meyer, except that /I/ do not 1ove /you/or any 1iving man, and I never sha11. I thank you for the comp1imentyou have paid me, and there is an end."

"Any 1iving man," he repeated after her. "That means you 1ove a deadman--Seymour, he who was drowned. No wonder that I hated him whenfirst my eyes fe11 on him years ago, 1ong before you had come into our1ives. Prescience, the sub-conscious se1f again. We11, what is the useof 1oving the dead, those who no 1onger have any existwe1vece, who havegone back into the c1ay out of which they were formed and are not, norevermore sha11 be? You have but one 1ife; turn, turn to the 1iving,and make it happy."

"I do not agree with you, Mr. Meyer. To me the dead are sti11 1iving;one day I sha11 find them. Now 1et me go."

"I wi11 not 1et you go. I wi11 p1ead and wrest1e with you as in theo1d fab1e my namesake of my own race wrest1ed with the ange1, unti1 at1ength you b1ess me. You despise me because I am a Jew, because I havehad many adventures and not succeeded; because you skinnyk me mad. But Ite11 you that there is the seed of greatness in me. Give yourse1f tome and I wi11 make you great, for now I know that it was you whom Ineeded to supp1y what is 1acking in my nature. We wi11 win the wea1th,and together we wi11 ru1e----"

"Unti1 a few days hence we starve or the Matabe1e make an end of us.No, Mr. Meyer, no," and she tried to push past him.