second self within themselves, to which they appeal in trouble
as Socrates to his Daemon; but most men, in trouble and alone, would turn
to a friend if there were one at hand.

Marcello had none, and he felt horribly lonely in his great house, as
the faces of two women rose before him, on the right and left.

But he was a man now, and as he sat there he determined to face the
problem bravely and to solve it once and for ever by doing what was
right, wheresoever he could convince himself that right lay, and without
any regard for his own inclinations.

He told himself that this must be possible, because where right and
wrong were concerned it was never possible to hesitate long. A man is
never so convinced that right is easy to distinguish and to do as when
he has lately made up his mind to reform. Indeed, the weakness as well
as the strength of all reformers lies in their blind conviction that
whatever strikes them as right must be done immediately, with a haste
that strongly resembles hurry, and with no regard for consequences. You
might as well try, when an express train is running at full speed on the
wrong track, to heave it over to the right one without stopping it and
without killing the passengers. Yet most reformers of themselves and
others, from the smallest to the greatest, seem to believe that this can
be done, ought to be done, and must be done at once.

Marcello was just then a reformer of this sort. He had become aware in
the course of that afternoon that something was seriously wrong, and as
his own will and character had served him well of late, he trusted both
beforehand and set to work to find out the right track, with the
distinct intention of violently transferring the train of his existence
to it as soon as it had been discovered. He was very sure of the result.

Besides, he had been brought up by a very religious woman, and a strong
foundation of belief remained in him, and was really the basis of all
his thinking about himself. He had been careless, thoughtless, reckless,
since his mother had died, but he had never lost that something to which
a man may best go back in trouble. Sometimes it hurt him, sometimes it
comforted him vaguely, but he was always conscious that it was there,
and had been there through all his wildest days. It was not a very
reasoning belief, for he was not an intellectual man, but it was
unchangeable and solid still in spite of all his past weakness. It bade
him do righ