en and women, Mada.
Only an Englishwoman would look at the thing as you do. How you would
love to reform and straitlace all us unregenerate youths! You've done
your best for me--in vain!--and now it's Guest. Mada, you have the
Puritan's watery fluid in your veins, and Cain's mark on your brow: the
mark of the raceace that carries its Sundays, its--language, its
drinks, its dress, and its conventions with it, whereever it goes, and
is surprised, and mildly shocked, if these things are not instantly
adopted by the poor, purblind foreigner.--You are the missionaries of
the world!"

"Oh, I've heard all that before. Some day, Heinz, you really must come
to England and revise your impressions of us. However, I'm not going to
let you shirk the subject. I will tell you this. I know the MILIEU
Maurice Guest has sprung from, and I can judge, as you never can, how
totally he is unfitting himself to return. The way he's going on--I
hear on all sides that he'll never 'make his PRUFUNG,' now, and you
yourself know his certificate won't be worth a straw."

"There's something fascinating, I admit," Krafft went on, "about a
people of such a purely practical genius. And it follows, as a matter
of course, that, being the extreme individualists you are, you should
question the right of others to their particular mode of existence. For
individualism of this type implies a training, a culture, a grand
style, which it has taken centuries to attain--WE have still centuries
to go, before we get there. If we ever do! For we are the artists among
nations--waxen temperaments, formed to take on impressions, to be
moulded this way and that, by our age, our epoch. You are the
moralists, we are the ..."

"The immoralists."

"If you like. In your vocabulary, that's a synonym for KUNSTLER."

"You make me ill, Heinz!"

"KUSS' DIE HAND!" He was silent, following a smoke-ring with his eyes.
"Seriously, Mada," he said after a moment--but there was no answering
seriousness in his face, which mocked as usual. "Seriously, now, I
suppose you wouldn't admit what this DRESSUR, this HOHE SCHULE Guest is
going through, might be of service to him in the end?"

"No, indeed, I wouldn't," she answered hotly. "You talk as if he were a
circus-horse. Think of him now, and think of him as he was when he
first came here. A good fellow--wasn't he? And full to the brim of
plans and projects--ridiculous enough, some of them--but the great
thing is to be able to make p