He was no figure-head.

He stood on his own legs.

He was an individual." "The first Anarchist," Maud laughed, rising and preparing to withdraw to her state-room.
"Then it is good to be an anarchist!" he cried.

He, too, had risen, and he stood facing her, where she had paused at the door of her room, as he went on: "'Here at least We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built Here for his envy; will not drive us hence; Here we may reign secure; and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven." It was the defiant cry of a mighty spirit.

The cabin still rang with his voice, as he stood there, swaying, his bronzed face shining, his head up and dominant, and his eyes, golden and masculine, intensely masculine and insistently soft, flashing upon Maud at the door.
Again that unnamable and unmistakable terror was in her eyes, and she said, almost in a whisper, "You are Lucifer." The door closed and she was gone.