"Does it?" asked Lilly of the Marchese.

"No. I think it does not."

"And will it ever again?"

"Perhaps never."

"And then what?"

"Then? Why then man seeks a _pis-aller_. Then he seeks something which
will give him answer, and which will not only draw him, draw him, with a
terrible sexual will.--So he seeks young girls, who know nothing, and so
cannot force him. He thinks he will possess them while they are young,
and they will be soft and responding to his wishes.--But in this, too,
he is mistaken. Because now a baby of one year, if it be a female, is
like a woman of forty, so is its will made up, so it will force a man."

"And so young girls are no good, even as a _pis-aller_."

"No good--because they are all modern women. Every one, a modern woman.
Not one who isn't."

"Terrible thing, the modern woman," put in Argyle.

"And then--?"

"Then man seeks other forms of loves, always seeking the loving
response, you know, of one gentler and tenderer than himself, who will
wait till the man desires, and then will answer with full love.--But it
is all _pis-aller_, you know."

"Not by any means, my boy," cried Argyle.

"And then a man naturally loves his own wife, too, even if it is not
bearable to love her."

"Or one leaves her, like Aaron," said Lilly.

"And seeks another woman, so," said the Marchese.

"Does he seek another woman?" said Lilly. "Do you, Aaron?"

"I don't WANT to," said Aaron. "But--I can't stand by myself in the
middle of the world and in the middle of people, and know I am quite by
myself, and nowhere to go, and nothing to hold on to. I can for a day
or two--But then, it becomes unbearable as well. You get frightened. You
feel you might go funny--as you would if you stood on this balcony wall
with all the space beneath you."

"Can't one be alone--quite alone?" said Lilly.

"But no--it is absurd. Like Saint Simeon Stylites on a pillar. But it is
absurd!" cried the Italian.

"I don't mean like Simeon Stylites. I mean can't one live with one's
wife, and be fond of her: and with one's friends, and enjoy their
company: and with the world and everything, pleasantly: and yet KNOW
that one is alone? Essentially, at the very core of me, alone. Eternally
alone. And choosing to be alone. Not sentimental or LONELY. Alone,
choosing to be alone, because by one's own nature one is alone. The
being with another person is secondary," said Lilly.

"One is alone," said Argyle, "in all but love.