e;
it was all polished, deft, superficial, conventional. It was like
playing an agile and elaborate game; and I felt that those who took
part in it were congratulating themselves on the brilliance of the
affair. Education, religion, art, poetry, music--we had something to
say about all; and yet I felt that no light had been thrown upon
anything. A lady of high rank gave me her views upon the writing of
English prose, with the air of one speaking condescendingly from
Olympus, which, as we know, was above even Parnassus. In the middle I
caught the eye of the great man, who was opposite me; he gave me a
mournful smile, and I read his thoughts. When the ladies had withdrawn,
my host, with a determined air as of a man above prejudice, started the
conversation on rather more virile lines; and the result was a certain
amount of delicately _risque_ talk. But even here we felt that it was
not human nature that was revealed. It was Voltairean rather than
Rabelaisian; and I dislike both. Then afterwards we sank into luxurious
chairs in the rich perfumed drawing-room; we talked low and
impressively to charming ladies; there was some exquisite music, so
pure and sweet that it seemed to me to put to shame the complex and
elaborate pageant of life in which we took part; and outside, one
remembered, there were the rain-splashed streets, the homeless wind;
and the toiling multitudes that made such delights possible, and gave
of their dreary, sordid labour that we might sit thus at ease. The
whole thing seemed artificial, soulless, hectic, unreal. One could not
help thinking of Dives and Lazarus, that strange parable that has so
stern a moral. "But now he is comforted and thou art tormented." It is
not suggested there that vice is punished and virtue rewarded; merely
that wealth is penalised and poverty compensated.

Well, it is a great mystery. No uneasy doubt as to the rightness of
things, as they are, ever troubled the mind of my serene host or his
gracious wife. The following morning I went away; I was sped on my way
with courteous kindness; but all the attention I received lies somewhat
heavy on my heart. I do not know how I could express to my friends what
I felt; they would not understand it if I tried to explain it. They
think of me as a queer rustic being, fond of a lonely life; they feel,
unconsciously enough, that they are conferring a benefit upon me by
enabling me to set foot in so cultured a circle; and there is no sense
o