ou say you learned at college before
I was born, permit me to point out that on the face of it you cannot
have learned anything since. Socialism has no more to do with the state
of nature than has differential calculus with a Bible class. I have
called your class stupid when outside the realm of business. You, sir,
have brilliantly exemplified my statement."

This terrible castigation of her hundred-thousand-dollar lawyer was too
much for Miss Brentwood's nerves. Her hysteria became violent, and she
was helped, weeping and laughing, out of the room. It was just as well,
for there was worse to follow.

"Don't take my word for it," Ernest continued, when the interruption had
been led away. "Your own authorities with one unanimous voice will prove
you stupid. Your own hired purveyors of knowledge will tell you that you
are wrong. Go to your meekest little assistant instructor of sociology
and ask him what is the difference between Rousseau's theory of the
return to nature and the theory of socialism; ask your greatest orthodox
bourgeois political economists and sociologists; question through
the pages of every text-book written on the subject and stored on the
shelves of your subsidized libraries; and from one and all the answer
will be that there is nothing congruous between the return to nature and
socialism. On the other hand, the unanimous affirmative answer will be
that the return to nature and socialism are diametrically opposed to
each other. As I say, don't take my word for it. The record of your
stupidity is there in the books, your own books that you never read. And
so far as your stupidity is concerned, you are but the exemplar of your
class.

"You know law and business, Colonel Van Gilbert. You know how to serve
corporations and increase dividends by twisting the law. Very good.
Stick to it. You are quite a figure. You are a very good lawyer, but you
are a poor historian, you know nothing of sociology, and your biology is
contemporaneous with Pliny."

Here Colonel Van Gilbert writhed in his chair. There was perfect quiet
in the room. Everybody sat fascinated--paralyzed, I may say. Such
fearful treatment of the great Colonel Van Gilbert was unheard of,
undreamed of, impossible to believe--the great Colonel Van Gilbert
before whom judges trembled when he arose in court. But Ernest never
gave quarter to an enemy.

"This is, of course, no reflection on you," Ernest said. "Every man to
his trade. Only you stic