You know, my dear Louis, that whenever I have formed any plan, whether a
reckless one or even a wise one, I go straight at it with the
stubbornness of a mule. This, perhaps, explains many of my follies.
According to my view (as a believer in free-will), man is himself a will
or independent power served by his organs; he is a kind of manifestation
of the spirit of nature created to control matter. Any man who abdicates
his rights, or gives way before obstacles, abandons his mission and
returns to the rank of the beasts. His is a lost power, which has
evaporated into space. Such is my opinion.

This highly philosophical prelude was necessary, as you will see, in
order to fix my principles before proceeding any further; and, above
all, in order to defend myself beforehand against any rash accusation of
fickleness in my plans. Science has mysterious paths, along which we
feel our way, without seeing clearly our destination. The consequence of
which is that, just when we fancy that we have reached the end, new and
immense horizons open out before us.

But I am getting tired of my metaphor.

It all amounts to this--that having the honour of being my uncle's
nephew, nothing happens to me in the same way as to other mortals, and
that consequently all the careful arrangements that I made in regard to
Kondjé-Gul have eventuated in a manner completely opposed to my express
intentions. But although my objective has been considerably enlarged, it
remains substantially the same, as I think you will remark.