could not perceive to be proper."

"I respect your mode of education," said the Count, "for who in this
lovely circle could have the heart to impugn it? Yet perhaps these
expedients may be rather too costly substitutes for that plain and
cheap obedience."

The Baron addressed himself in ill humour to Alfred, and the
conversation took a different turn. The young officer related with
self-complacency, that he had lately declined a party, to which he had
been invited by a lady, without any apology, as it appeared to him
sinful to pretend indisposition or an engagement. The company praised
this love of truth, and were of opinion that this fashion and habit
must become universal in society, if it was ever to be delivered from
empty affectation, hypocrisy, and continual petty falsehood. The mother
also hesitatingly joined in these assertions, though she feared such a
line of conduct might be difficult to pursue, without entirely
dissolving the delicate ties of society; but that on this very account
the virtue of the individual, who has the courage to overlook these
considerations, was the more praiseworthy. "There is nothing," she
continued, "which I have sought so much to awaken and keep alive in my
children, as the sacred instinct of truth; I have been on my guard to
prevent them from ever permitting themselves the smallest untruth, even
in jest. I have myself always endeavoured to answer all their questions
with truth, to remove out of their course of instruction every thing
which could not be made clear and plain; but above all I avoided those
absurd legends and lying stories, which cherish fear and superstition,
and tend certainly, more than any thing else, to estrange the minds of
children from truth."

The Baron enlarged upon these positions, and all the rest concurred,
except the Count, who expressed his opinion, that it might be one of
the most difficult of answers to say, what truth, truth properly so
called, was. "Men," said he, "have been seeking it in all directions
for thousands of years, and in this, as in almost all things, good
will, the intention of being veracious, must but too often supply the
place of the thing itself. If I would constantly tell the truth to
children or imbecile persons in answer to all questions, I run in
danger of being unable to speak truth any longer; for the last answer
at least rests upon a mystery which I am as little at liberty to deny,
as I am able to explain it. And to this i