eason. All this, however, does not for a moment delude that
which lies deepest within us. An act of injustice must always shake
the confidence a man had in himself and his destiny; at a given moment,
and that generally of the gravest, he has ceased to rely upon himself
alone; and this will not be forgotten, nor will he ever again be wholly
himself. He has confused, and probably corrupted, his fortune by the
introduction of strange powers. He has lost the exact sense of his
personality and of the force that is in him. He can no longer clearly
distinguish between what is his own and comes from himself, and what he
is constantly borrowing from the pernicious collaborators whom his
weakness has summoned. He has ceased to be the general who has none
but disciplined soldiers in the army of his thoughts; he becomes the
usurping chief around whom are only accomplices. He has forsworn the
dignity of the man who will have none of the glory at which his heart
can only smile as sadly as an ardent, unhappy lover will smile at a
faithless mistress.

He who is truly strong will examine with eager care the praise and
advantages that his actions have won for him, and will silently reject
whatever oversteps a certain line that he has drawn in his
consciousness. And the stronger he is, the more nearly will this line
approach the one that has already been drawn by the secret truth that
lies at the bottom of all things. An act of injustice is almost always
a confession of weakness; and very few such confessions are needed to
reveal to the enemy the most vulnerable spot of the soul. He who
commits an unjust deed that he may gain some measure of glory, or
preserve the little glory he has, does but admit that what he desires
or what he possesses is beyond his deserving, and that the part he has
sought to play exceeds his powers of loyal fulfilment. And if,
notwithstanding all, he persist in his endeavour, his life will soon be
beset by falsehoods, errors, and phantoms.

And at last, after a few acts of weakness, of treachery, of culpable
self-indulgence, the survey of our past life can bring discouragement
only, whereas we have great need that our past should inspire and
sustain us. For therein alone do we truly know what we are; it is only
our past that can come to us, in our moments of doubt, and say: "Since
you were able to do that thing, it shall lie in your power to do this
thing also. When that danger confronted you, when t