matter. It is
the smoking I miss, the freedom, the companionship. My mind will not
act when I'm alone. I can only think of what has been and torment
myself. Already I've been punished enough for the sins of a lifetime."

"Is there nothing I can do for you, nothing you want?" I asked.

"No, Frank," he answered, "it was kind of you to come to see me, I
wish I could tell you how kind."

"Don't think of it," I said; "if I'm any good send for me at any
moment: a word will bring me. They allow you books, don't they?"

"Yes, Frank."

"I wish you would get the 'Apologia of Plato'," I said, "and take a
big draught of that deathless smiling courage of Socrates."

"Ah, Frank, how much more humane were the Greeks. They let his friends
see him and talk to him by the hour, though he was condemned to death.
There were no warders there to listen, no degrading conditions."

"Quite true," I cried, suddenly realising how much better Oscar Wilde
would have been treated in Athens two thousand years ago. "Our
progress is mainly change; we don't shed our cruelty; even Christ has
not been able to humanise us."

He nodded his head. At first he seemed greatly distressed; but I
managed to encourage him a little, for at the close of the talk he
questioned me:

"Do you really think I may win, Frank?"

"Of course you'll win," I replied. "You must win: you must not think
of being beaten. Take it that they will not want to convict you. Say
it to yourself in the court; don't let yourself fear for a moment.
Your enemies are merely stupid, unhappy creatures crawling about for a
few miserable years between earth and sun; fated to die and leave no
trace, no memory. Remember you are fighting for all of us, for every
artist and thinker who is to be born into the English world.... It is
better to win like Galileo than to be burnt like Giordano Bruno. Don't
let them make another martyr. Use all your brains and eloquence and
charm. Don't be afraid. They will not condemn you if they know you."

"I have been trying to think," he said, "trying to make up my mind to
bear one whole year of this life. It's dreadful, Frank, I had no idea
that prison was so dreadful."

The warder again drew down his brows. I hastened to change the
subject.

"That's why you must resolve not to have any more of it," I said; "I
wish I had seen you when you came out of court, but I really thought
you didn't want me; you turned away from me."

"Oh, Frank, how could I?" he