"
The man went out, as if with reluctance. Valentine turned to the doctor.
"We spoke about soul--that is, will--just now," he said. "To deny the
will is death, despite Schopenhauer. Death? Worse than death--cowardice.
To assert the will is life and victory. With each assertion a man steps
nearer to a god. With each conquest of another will a man mounts, and
if any man wants to enjoy an eternity he must create it for himself by
feeding his will or soul with conquest till it is so strong that it
cannot die."
His eyes shone with excitement. It seemed to the doctor that he was
caught in the whirlpool of a violent reaction. He had shown fear,
weakness; he was aware of it, and determined to reassert himself. The
doctor answered nothing, neither agreeing with his fantastic philosophy
nor striving to controvert it. And at this moment there was the sound of
a struggle and of whining outside. The door was pushed open, and Julian's
man appeared, hauling Rip along by the collar. The little dog was hanging
back, with all its force, and striving to get away. Having succeeded in
getting it into the room, the man quickly retreated, shutting the door
hastily behind him. The little dog was left with Valentine and the
doctor.
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