light would dispel
my darkness. It would dictate to me the words that I must say: they
would be the only words that could meet the secret objections of the
master of my Fate. It would regulate my attitude, my silence, my
gestures; it would endow me with the confidence, the nameless
influence, which often will govern the decisions of men far more than
the reasons of reason or the eloquence of interest. But here I am
sorely afraid that my unconsciousness will do none of these things. It
will remain perfectly passive. It will not appear on the familiar
threshold. In its obtuseness, impervious to the fact that my life has
ceased to be self-contained, it will act in accordance with its ancient
traditions, those that have ruled it these hundreds of years; it will
persist in regarding this matter as one that does not concern me, and
will believe that in helping my failure it will be doing me service;
whereas in truth it will afflict me more grievously, cause me more
sorrow, than if it were to betray me at the approach of death. I shall
be importing, therefore, into this affair, only the palest reflection,
a kind of phantom, of my own luck; and I ask myself with dread whether
this will suffice to counterbalance the contrary fortune which I have,
as it were, assumed, and which I represent."

14

Some days later my friend informed me that his action had been
unsuccessful. It may be that this reverse was only due to chance or to
his own want of confidence. For the confidence that sees success ahead
pursues it with a pertinacity and resource of which hesitation and
doubt are incapable; nor is it troubled by any of those involuntary
weaknesses which give so great an advantage to the adversary's
instinct. And there may probably be much truth also in his manner of
depicting unconsciousness. For truly, there are depths in us at which
unconsciousness and confidence would seem to blend, and it becomes
difficult to say where the first begins, or the second leaves off.

We will not pursue this too subtle inquiry, but rather consider the
other and more direct questions that life is ever putting to us
concerning one of its greatest problems--chance. This possesses what
may be called a daily interest. It asks us, for instance, what
attitude we should adopt towards men who are incontestably unlucky; men
whose evil star has such pernicious power that it infallibly brings
disaster to whatever comes within the range--often a ver