‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. Apparently, Jonathan perceived he was an object of scrutiny; for, hastily dismissing his attendant, he walked towards the knight. She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. At last—I told a story.
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