would be very odd if we
succeeded. The world would probably stand still if we did, and most of
us are so well aware of the fact that we do not even try; and the sermon
simply has no effect at all, which need not prevent the preacher from
being richly remunerated for delivering it.

"Vice is very attractive, of course," he says, "but you must avoid it
because it is sinful."

And every time vice is mentioned we think how attractive it must be,
since it is necessary to preach against it so much; and the more
attractive it seems, the greater the temptation.

"Should you like to try a vice or two?" said the Spartan, "Very well.
Come with me, my boy, and you shall see what vice is; and after that, if
you care to try it, please yourself, for I shall have nothing more to
say!"

And forthwith he played upon the string of disgust, which is the most
sensitive of all the strings that vibrate in the great human instrument;
and the boy's stomach rose, and he sickened and turned away, and
remembered for ever, though he might try ever so hard to forget.

Marcello at last saw Folco as he was, though still without understanding
the worst, and with no suspicion that Folco wished him out of the world,
and had deliberately set to work to kill him by dissipation; and the
disgust he felt was the most horrible sensation that he could remember.
At the same time he saw himself and his whole life, and the perplexity
of his position frightened him.

It seemed impossible to go back and live under the same roof with
Corbario now. He flushed with shame when he remembered the luncheon at
Saint Moritz, and how he had been almost persuaded to leave poor Regina
suddenly, and to go back to Paris with his stepfather. He saw through
the devilish cleverness of the man's arguments, and when he remembered
that his dead mother's name had been spoken, a thrill of real pain ran
through his body and he clenched his teeth and his hands.

He asked himself how he could meet Folco after that, and the only answer
was that if they met they must quarrel and part, not to meet again.

He told Regina that he would not go back to the villa after they reached
Rome, but would live in the little house in Trastevere. To his surprise,
she looked grave and shook her head. She had never asked him what was
making him so silent and thoughtful, but she had guessed much of the
truth from little things; she herself had never trusted Corbario since
she had first seen his face a