t is all a fallacy that we can raise those below us by
remaining above them. We must descend to their level in habits,
intelligence, and life; then all will rise together."

"Even bread must have yeast; and if we all make ourselves exactly alike,
who is to act as yeast? Are we to adopt all vices of the lower classes?
That would be the speediest way of putting ourselves on a complete
equality with them. But if some of us do not remain yeast, we shall all
turn out the flattest sort of dough."

"We certainly cannot change the position of a thing unless we go close
enough to grasp it, unless we are on the same plane with it."

"Perhaps not; but being on the same plane does not always answer. Did
you ever see an acrobat try that trick? He puts one leg on the table,
then tries to lift his whole body by grasping the other leg and putting
it on a level to begin with. Logically, it ought to succeed and carry
the body with it, if your theory is correct. However, it remains merely
a curious and amusing experiment, likely to result in a broken neck to
any one not skilled in gymnastics, and certain to end in a tumble even
for the one who is thus skilled."

He reiterated his arguments. I retorted that human beings were not moral
kangaroos, who could proceed by leaps, and that even the kangaroo is
obliged to allow the tip of his tail to follow his paws. I said that in
the moral as well as in the physical world it is simply a choice between
standing still and putting one foot before the other; that one cannot
get upstairs by remaining on the bottom step; one member of the body
must rise first.

We were obliged to agree to disagree, as usual, but I fancy that he may
have changed to my opinion of the book and the subject by this time. I
have already noted that he is open to influence.

One evening, as we sat on the steps of the uncovered terrace outside his
study, the conversation fell on the book which he was then engaged upon,
and which the countess had shown us that she was copying for the fourth
time. He had been busy on it for two years. Neither of them went into
details nor mentioned the plot, but I had heard on my arrival in Russia,
twenty months previously, that it related to the murder of a woman by
her husband, and had a railway scene in it. I did not interrogate them,
and when the count said that he hoped I would translate the book when it
should be finished I accepted the proposal with alacrity. I inquired
whether I was