He knew that, beyond the ocean which begirt his lonely island, thousands lived whom the sun enlightened when it shone also on him: beneath the meridian sun and visiting moon, I alone bore human features; I alone could give articulation to thought; and, when I slept, both day and night were unbeheld of any. He had fled from his fellows, and was transported with terror at the print of a human foot. I would have knelt down and worshipped the same. The wild and cruel Caribbee, the merciless Cannibal⁠—or worse than these, the uncouth, brute, and remorseless veteran in the vices of civilization, would have been to me a beloved companion, a treasure dearly prized⁠—his nature would be kin to mine; his form cast in the same mould; human blood would flow in his veins; a human sympathy must link us forever. It cannot be that I shall never behold a fellow being more!⁠—never!⁠—never!⁠—not in the course of years!⁠—Shall I wake, and speak to none, pass the interminable hours, my soul, islanded in the world, a solitary point, surrounded by vacuum? Will day follow day endlessly thus?⁠—No! no! a God rules the world⁠—providence has not exchanged its golden sceptre for an aspic’s sting. Away!