MY CONFESSION
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ment of the whole building, and taking part in it, will never think of asking why he is there, and certainly will not rebuke the master.
Even thus the Master is not rebuked by those who do his will,—simple, working, illiterate people,—those whom we have regarded as beasts; but we, the wiseacres, eat the Master’s food and do not do any of the things that the Master wants us to do, but instead of doing them we sit down in a circle and discuss “Why should we move the stick? That is stupid.” And we thought it out. We reasoned it out that the Master was stupid, or did not exist, and we were wise, only we felt that we were not good for anything and ought to free ourselves from our lives.
