_, continues to live, but _Miss
Julia_ cannot live on without honour. In so far as he lacks this
life--endangering superstition about honour, the serf takes
precedence of the earl, and in all of us Aryans there is something
of the nobleman, or of Don Quixote, which makes us sympathise with
the man who takes his own life because he has committed a
dishonourable deed and thus lost his honour. And we are noblemen to
the extent of suffering from seeing the earth littered with the
living corpse of one who was once great--yes, even if the one thus
fallen should rise again and make restitution by honourable deeds.

_Jean_, the valet, is of the kind that builds new stock--one in
whom the differentiation is clearly noticeable. He was a cotter's
child, and he has trained himself up to the point where the future
gentleman has become visible. He has found it easy to learn, having
finely developed senses (smell, taste, vision) and an instinct for
beauty besides. He has already risen in the world, and is strong
enough not to be sensitive about using other people's services. He
has already become a stranger to his equals, despising them as so
many outlived stages, but also fearing and fleeing them because
they know his secrets, pry into his plans, watch his rise with
envy, and look forward to his fall with pleasure. From this
relationship springs his dual, indeterminate character, oscillating
between love of distinction and hatred of those who have already
achieved it. He says himself that he is an aristocrat, and has
learned the secrets of good company. He is polished on the outside
and coarse within. He knows already how to wear the frock-coat with
ease, but the cleanliness of his body cannot be guaranteed.

He feels respect for the young lady, but he is afraid of _Christine_,
who has his dangerous secrets in her keeping. His emotional
callousness is sufficient to prevent the night's happenings from
exercising a disturbing influence on his plans for the future.
Having at once the slave's brutality and the master's lack of
squeamishness, he can see blood without fainting, and he can also
bend his back under a mishap until able to throw it off. For this
reason he will emerge unharmed from the battle, and will probably
end his days as the owner of a hotel. And if he does not become a
Roumanian count, his son will probably go to a university, and may
even become a county attorney.

Otherwise, he furnishes us with rather significant