Will game be wanting here?
After what he has seen this morning, he will not even need his gun to obtain it.
Oh! his provision of powder will last him a long time.
What has he to desire more in this terrestrial Paradise?
The society of men?
Why?
That he may find a master, a chief, under whose will he must bend?
Men! but he despises, detests them! Is he not then sufficient for himself?
Yes! this shall be his glory, his happiness! To live in entire liberty, to depend only upon himself, will not this impart to his soul true dignity?
Besides, this island cannot be so far from the coast, but, from time to time, ships, or at least boats must come in sight.

This is then for him but a transient seclusion; but were he even condemned to eternal isolation, this isolation has ceased to terrify him, he accepts it! Has he not almost always lived alone, in spirit at least?
When he was in the depths of the hold, was he not better satisfied with his fate than when surrounded by those coarse sailors who composed the worthy crew of the Swordfish?
To-day he is no longer the prisoner of Stradling, he is the prisoner of God! and this thought reassures him.
A sailor, he has never loved but the sea; well! the sea surrounds him, guards him! He has then only thanks to render to God.
Arrived at his grotto, he takes his Bible, opens it; but the sun, suddenly sinking below the horizon, permits him to read only this passage on which his finger is placed: 'Thou shalt perish in thy pride!'.