What, Stella, will he not?

Stella (laughing).--Papa, how can I know that?

Drahomir.--Truly, I sometimes envy those stalwart men. During the
battle they strengthen in themselves the force which lessens and
disappears in us, because nothing nourishes it. Perhaps we are also
made of noble metal, but we are eaten up with rust while they are
hardened in the battle of life. It is a sad necessity.

Czeska.--How about Mr. Pretwic?

Drahomir.--George endured much, it is true, and one feels this
although it is difficult to describe it. Look at those two men. When
the wind blows George resists like a century-old tree, and men like
the doctor subdue it and order it to propel his boat. There is in that
some greater capacity for life, therefore the result is more easy to
be foreseen. The tree is older, and although still strong, the more it
is bitten by the storms, the sooner it will die.

Prince.--I have said many times that we die like old trees. Some other
thicket grows, but it is composed only of bushes.

Stella.--The one who is good has the right to live--we must not doubt
about ourselves.

Drahomir.--I do not doubt, even for the reason that the poet says:
"Saintly is the one who knows how to be a friend" (bows to Stella)
"with saints."