“ThereisonlyonefaultthatIcanfindwithit，itisnottrue。
Forifwewereallalike，andwereallbrothers，whyshouldthekingrideroundinhisgildedchariot，whileI，anoldcobbler，sitonmybenchandhavemyfacecoveredwithsweat？“
“ThekingisnosonofFreedom!“exclaimedthestranger，withanangrygesture。“ThekingisasonofTyranny，andthereforehewantstomakehisenemies，thesonsofFreedom，tobehisservants，hisslaves，andtobindourarmswithfetters。Butshallwealwaysbearthis？Shallwenotriseatlastoutofthedustintowhichwehavebeentrodden？“
“Yes，certainly，ifwecan，thenwewill，“saidSimon，withhisgrufflaugh。“Buthereisthehitch，sir，wecannotdoit。Thekinghasthepowertoholdusinhisfetters；andthisfinelady，MadameFreedom，ofwhomyousaythatsheisourmother，letsitcometopass，notwithstandingthathersonsarebounddowninservitudeandabasement。“
“Itmustbeforaseasonyet，“answeredtheother，withloud，raspingvoice；“butthedayofarisingisathand，andshowswithalaughingfacehowthosewhomshewilldestroyarerushingswiftlyupontheirowndoom。“