"But what will it avail," I asked, "since neither of us can help
matters? Do you want the fulness of my heart or merely a word and an
excuse?"

"Be frank!" he said.

"Very well," I replied, "you have seen fit to give me advice in the past
and now I ask you to listen to me as I have listened to you. You ask
what is in my heart, and I am about to tell you.

"Take the first comer and say to, him: 'Here are people who pass their
lives drinking, riding, laughing, gambling, enjoying all kinds of
pleasures; no barrier restrains them, their law is their pleasure, women
are their playthings; they are rich. They have no cares, not one. All
their days are days of feasting.' What do you think of it? Unless that
man happened to be a severe bigot, he would probably reply that it was
the greatest happiness that could be imagined.

"'Then take that man into the centre of the whirl, place him at a table
with a woman on either side, a glass in his hand, a handful of gold
every morning and say to him: 'This is your life. While you sleep near
your mistress, your horses neigh in the stables; while you drive your
horses along the boulevards, your wines are ripening in your vaults;
while you pass away the night drinking, the bankers are increasing your
wealth. You have but to express a wish and your desires are gratified.
You are the happiest of men. But take care lest some night of carousal
you drink too much and destroy the capacity of your body for enjoyment.
That would be a serious misfortune, for all the ills that afflict human
flesh can be cured, except that. You ride some night through the woods
with joyous companions; your horse falls and you are thrown into a ditch
filled with mud, and it may be that your companions, in the midst of
their happy shoutings will not hear your cry of anguish; it may be that
the sound of their trumpets will die away in the distance while you drag
your broken limbs through the deserted forest.

"'Some night you will lose at the gaming-table; fortune has its bad
days. When you return home and are seated before the fire, do not strike
your forehead with your hands, and allow sorrow to moisten your cheeks
with tears; do not anxiously cast your eyes about here and there as if
searching for a friend; do not, under any circumstances, think of those
who, under some thatched roof, enjoy a tranquil life and who sleep
holding each other by the hand; for before you on your luxurious bed
reclines a pale creat