. They are the conscious mothers of the race of men and
gods. A woman's natural right is her right to the child, and it is a most
inglorious page in the history of woman that she has allowed herself to
be deprived of that right. The birth of the child, in so far as it is not
sanctioned by a man, is subject to the fire and brimstone of public
scorn. And this scorn is the most pitiful page in man's history. The
devil knows how it ever came to possess such awful, absolute dominion.
Form a league of mothers, I should counsel women. Each member shall give
token of her motherhood by having children without the sanction of a man,
that is, without regard for so-called honour. In this lies woman's
strength, but only if she takes pride in her child, instead of bearing
it with a troubled conscience, in cowardice, concealment, and fear.
Reacquire your proud, instinctive consciousness, which you are fully
justified in having, of being the mothers of humanity; and having that
consciousness, you will be invincible."

Doctor Wilhelm, who kept in touch with professional circles, was
acquainted with Frederick's name and the outcome of his scientific
career. His unfortunate bacteriological work was on his book shelf.
Nevertheless, the name of Frederick von Kammacher had an authoritative
ring, and association with the great man flattered him. He listened to
Frederick's exposition intently.

The Red Cross sister entered again to summon Doctor Wilhelm to a
first-class woman patient. The physician's small, close hermitage, in
which Frederick was now left alone, gave him opportunity to reflect upon
the meaning of his remarkable journey. The _Roland_ was proceeding more
smoothly, and while he sat there smoking cigarettes, a sense of comfort
came over him, partly attributable, however, to the general effect of a
sea trip on one's nerves. It seemed wonderful to him to be on this great
transport of human cargo, to be driven onward to a new continent along
with so many fellow-men, subject to the same weal and woe. And the cause
of his presence on the ship was so curious! Never before had he had so
strange a sense of being a will-less puppet in the hands of destiny.
Again dark and light illusions mingled in his brain. He thought of
Ingigerd, whom he had not yet seen; and when he touched the quivering
wall of the low room, he was penetrated by happiness, that the same walls
were protecting him as the little dancer and that the same bottom was
holdin