and here is a man who teaches me that sorrow is true
joy. I believe him, for he knows the truth."

"And I, sweetheart," replied Nicias, smiling, "I know the truths. He
knows but one, I know them all. I am superior to him in that respect,
but to tell the truth, it doesn't make me any the prouder nor any the
happier."

Then, seeing that the monk was glaring fiercely at him--

"My dear Paphnutius, do not imagine that I think you extremely absurd,
or even altogether unreasonable. And if I were to compare your life with
mine, I could not say which is preferable in itself. I shall presently
go and take the bath which Crobyle and Myrtale have prepared for me;
I shall eat the wing of a Phasian pheasant; then I shall read--for the
hundredth time--some fable by Apuleius or some treatise by Porphyry.
You will return to your cell, where, leaning like a tame camel, you will
ruminate on--I know not what--formulas of incarnations you have long
chewed and rechewed, and in the evening you will swallow some radishes
without any oil. Well, my dear friend, in accomplishing these acts, so
different apparently, we are both obeying the same sentiment, the only
motive for all human actions; we are both seeking our own pleasure, and
striving to attain the same end--happiness, the impossible happiness.
It would be folly on my part to say you were wrong, dear friend, even
though I think myself in the right.

"And you, my Thais, go and enjoy yourself, and be more happy still, if
it be possible, in abstinence and austerity than you have been in riches
and pleasure. On the whole, I should say you were to be envied. For
if in our whole lives, Paphnutius and I have pursued but one kind of
pleasurable satisfaction, you in your life, dear Thais, have tasted
diverse joys such as it is rarely given to the same person to know.
I should really like to be for one hour, a saint like our dear friend
Paphnutius. But that is not possible. Farewell, then, Thais! Go where
the secret forces of nature and your destiny conduct you! Go, and take
with you, whithersoever you go, the good wishes of Nicias! I know
that is mere foolishness, but can I give you anything more than barren
regrets and vain wishes in payment for the delicious illusions which
once enveloped me when I was in your arms, and of which only the shadow
now remains to me? Farewell, my benefactress! Farewell, goodness that is
ignorant of its own existence, mysterious virtue, joy of men! Farewell
to t