'"
She paused a second and John Derringham was astonished at himself
because he was conscious of experiencing a thrill of deep interest.
"Yes?" he said--and her voice went on:
"'But to the souls of fire I give more fire and to those who are manful
I give a might more than man's. These are the heroes, the sons of the
Immortals who are blest but not like the souls of clay, for I drive them
forth by strange paths, Perseus, that they may fight the Titans and
monsters, the enemies of gods and men. Through doubt and need and danger
and battle I drive them, and some of them are slain in the flower of
youth, no man knows when or where, and some of them win noble names and
a fair and green old age--but what will be their latter end, I know not,
and none, save Zeus, the father of gods and men--Tell me, now, Perseus,
which of these two sorts of men seem to you more blest?'"
It was as if she asked him a personal question and unconsciously he
answered:
"I should reply as Perseus did. Tell me his words."
"'Better to die in the flower of youth on the chance of winning a noble
name than to live at ease like the sheep and die unloved and
unrenowned.
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