less, was touched
by the admiration of his younger cousin, and had for him a sort of
half-paternal affection, which was quite enough to satisfy the modest
expectations of the quiet young man. Yet Macaulay was far from being a
match for Paul in any respect. Where Paul exhibited the force of his
determination by intelligent hard work, Macaulay showed his desire for
excellence by doggedly memorizing in a parrot-like way everything which
he wished to know. Where Paul was enthusiastic, Macaulay was
conscientious. Where Paul was original, Macaulay was a studious but dull
imitator of the originality of others. Instead of Paul's indescribable
air of good-breeding, Macaulay possessed what might be called a
well-bred respectability. Where Paul was bold, Macaulay exhibited a
laudable desire to do his duty.

Yet Macaulay Carvel was not to be despised on account of his high-class
mediocrity. He did his best, according to his lights. He endeavored to
improve the shining hour, and admired the busy little bee, as he had
been taught to do in the nursery. If he had not the air of a
thoroughbred, he had none of the plebeian clumsiness of the cart-horse.
Though he was not the man to lead a forlorn hope, he was no coward; and
though he had not invented gunpowder, he had the requisite intelligence
to make use of already existing inventions under the direction of
others. He had a way of remembering what he had learned laboriously
which his brilliant chief found to be very convenient, and he was a
useful secretary. His admiration for Paul was the honest admiration
which many a young man feels for those qualities which he does not
possess, but which he believes he can create in himself by closely
imitating the actions of others.

It is unnecessary to add that Macaulay was discreet, and that in the
course of a few days he was put in possession of the details of what had
occurred. I had feared at first that his presence might irritate Paul,
in the present state of affairs, but I soon found out that the younger
man's uniformly cheerful, if rather colorless, disposition seemed to
act like a sort of calming medicine upon his cousin's anxious moods.

"That fellow Carvel," Balsamides would say, "is the ultimate expression
of your Western civilization, which tends to make all men alike. I
cannot understand why you are both so fond of him. To me he is insipid
as boiled cucumber. He ought to be a banker's clerk instead of a
diplomatist. The idea of hi