Idt iss nodt like the worldt," said Lindau, gloomily.
March thought he ought to cheer him up.

"Oh, it isn't such a bad world, Lindau! After all, the average of millionaires is small in it." He added, "And I don't believe there's an American living that could look at that arm of yours and not wish to lend you a hand for the one you gave us all." March felt this to be a fine turn, and his voice trembled slightly in saying it.
Lindau smiled grimly.

"You think zo?
I wouldn't moch like to drost 'em.
I've driedt idt too often." He began to speak German again fiercely: "Besides, they owe me nothing.

Do you think I knowingly gave my hand to save this oligarchy of traders and tricksters, this aristocracy of railroad wreckers and stock gamblers and mine-slave drivers and mill-serf owners?
No; I gave it to the slave; the slave--ha! ha! ha!--whom I helped to unshackle to the common liberty of hunger and cold.

And you think I would be the beneficiary of such a state of things ?" "I'm sorry to hear you talk so, Lindau," said March; "very sorry." He stopped with a look of pain, and rose to go.