You would advise me to give up the attempt to win her." "Precisely.

I need say no more." "On the contrary," said Kafka with sudden energy, "when a man gives such advice as that to a stranger he is bound to give also his reasons." The Wanderer looked at him calmly as he answered.
"One man need hardly give a reason for saving another man's life.

Yours is in danger." "I see that you hate her, as she said you did." "You and she are both mistaken in that.

I am not in love with her and I have ceased to be her friend.

As for my interest in you, it does not even pretend to be friendly--it is that which any man may feel for a fellow-being, and what any man would feel who had seen what I have seen this afternoon." The calm bearing and speech of the experienced man of the world carried weight with it in the eyes of the young Moravian, whose hot blood knew little of restraint and less of caution; with the keen instinct of his race in the reading of character he suddenly understood that his companion was at once generous and disinterested.