fools as vell as failures and sent t'e men avay. You know me. I am
biologist, not true? I hate t'e vord. I am physiologist, student of t'e
nature of life--all kinds of life, t'e ocean of life of v'ich man is but a
petty incident."

"You were speaking about--"

"Ach, so! Almost t'ou has t'e scientific mind t'at reasons and remembers.
I said, I am physiologist. I study v'at Nature is, v'at she means to do.
V'en Nature--Gott, if you vant a shorter name--makes a mistake, Gott says:
'Poor material; spoiled in shaping, wrong in t'e vorks; all failures;
t'row t'em avay. Ve haf plenty more to go on vit'. You know. You study
Nature, also, a little. You know she is law, she is power. To t'e
indifidual pitiless, she mofes vit' blind, discompassionate majesty ofer
millions of mangled organisms to t'e greater glory of Pan, of Kosmos, of
t'e Universe. She vastes life. And how not? Her best vork lives a little
v'ile and produces its kind, and t'e vorst does not, and t'ey go down t'e
dark vay toget'er and Nature neit'er veeps nor relents Kosmos is greater
t'an t'e indifidual and a million years are short.

"T'ose young vomen--Nature meant t'em to desire beauty and dream of lofe.
Vat is lofe? It is Nature's machinery. T'ose vomen are old enough for
lofe, but t'ey haf it not. So t'ey die. T'ey do not reproduce t'eir kind,
not'ing lifing comes from t'em, to go on lifing, on and on, better and
better--or vorse, as Nature planned--vit' efery generation. If a voman haf
t'e desire of lofe and of beauty, and lofe and beauty come not to her,
t'en I pity her, because I am less vise and resolute to vit'hold pity t'an
Nature is. Efen if she haf not lofe, but only t'e ambition of power or
learning or vealt', I might pity her vit' equal injustice, but I cannot.
She vill not let me. She does not know t'at she is a failure. She prides