the most singularly
misunderstood words in all languages," he said.

"What word?" inquired Margaret, looking up from her work, to which she
had attentively applied herself while he was reading.

"Friendship."

"Will you please define what it means?" said she.

"I can define what I myself mean by it, or rather what I think I mean by
it. I can define what a dozen writers have meant by it. But I cannot
tell what it really means, still less what it may ultimately come to
mean."

"You will probably be best able to explain what you mean by it
yourself," answered Margaret rather coldly. "Will you please begin?"

"It seems to me," Claudius began, "that the difficulty lies in the
contradiction between the theory and the fact. Of course, as in all such
cases, the theory loses the battle, and we are left groping for an
explanation of the fact which we do not understand. Perhaps that is a
little vague?" Claudius paused.

"A little vague--yes," said she.

"I will try and put it more clearly. First take the fact. No one will
deny that there have occasionally in the world's history existed
friendships which have stood every test and which have lasted to the
very end. Such attachments have been always affairs of the heart, even
between man and man. I do not think you can name an instance of a
lasting friendship on a purely intellectual basis. True friendship
implies the absence of envy, and the vanity of even the meanest
intellect is far too great to admit of such a condition out of pure
thought-sympathy."

"I do not see any contradiction, even admitting your last remark, which
is cynical enough." Margaret spoke indifferently, as making a mere
criticism.

"But I believe most people connect the idea of friendship, beyond
ordinary liking, with intellectual sympathy. They suppose, for instance,
that a man may love a woman wholly and entirely with the best kind of
love, and may have at the same time a friend with whom he is in entire
sympathy."

"And why not?" she asked.

"Simply because he cannot serve two masters. If he is in entire sympathy
with more than one individual he must sometimes not only contradict
himself, as he would rightly do for one or the other alone, but he must
also contradict one in favour of the other in case they disagree. In
such a case he is no longer in entire sympathy with both, and either his
love or his friendship must be imperfect." Claudius looked at the
Countess to see what impression he had