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"
And
history
tells
of
opportunities
that
came
to
the
slaves
who
rose
to
the
purple
,
"
he
answered
grimly
.
"
No
man
makes
opportunity
.
All
the
great
men
ever
did
was
to
know
it
when
it
came
to
them
.
The
Corsican
knew
.
I
have
dreamed
as
greatly
as
the
Corsican
.
I
should
have
known
the
opportunity
,
but
it
never
came
.
The
thorns
sprung
up
and
choked
me
.
And
,
Hump
,
I
can
tell
you
that
you
know
more
about
me
than
any
living
man
,
except
my
own
brother
.
"
"
And
what
is
he
?
And
where
is
he
?
"
"
Master
of
the
steamship
Macedonia
,
seal-hunter
,
"
was
the
answer
.
"
We
will
meet
him
most
probably
on
the
Japan
coast
Men
call
him
'
Death
'
Larsen
.
"
"
Death
Larsen
!
"
I
involuntarily
cried
.
"
Is
he
like
you
?
"
"
Hardly
.
He
is
a
lump
of
an
animal
without
any
head
.
He
has
all
my
--
my
--
"
"
Brutishness
,
"
I
suggested
.
"
Yes
--
thank
you
for
the
word
--
all
my
brutishness
,
but
he
can
scarcely
read
or
write
.
"
"
And
he
has
never
philosophized
on
life
,
"
I
added
.
"
No
,
"
Wolf
Larsen
answered
,
with
an
indescribable
air
of
sadness
.
"
And
he
is
all
the
happier
for
leaving
life
alone
.
He
is
too
busy
living
it
to
think
about
it
.
My
mistake
was
in
ever
opening
the
books
.
"
