rectorship under you?"

"You're no good under any one. You belong on top." Ferdinand illustrated
his words with a downward and an upward pointing of the finger. "The
harnessing of the Tigris and Euphrates will have to be taken in hand.
It's only a question of time."

"Thanks very much!" said Peer, his eyes wide open now.

"The plan's simply lying waiting for the right man. It will be carried
out, it may be next year, it may be in ten years--whenever the man comes
along. I would think about it, if I were you."

All looked at Peer; Merle fastened her eyes on him, too. But he laughed.
"Now, what on earth would be the satisfaction to me of binding in bands
those two ancient and honourable rivers?"

"Well, in the first place, it would mean an increase of many millions
of bushels in the corn production of the world. Wouldn't you have any
satisfaction in that?"

"No," said Peer, with a touch of scorn.

"Or regular lines of communication over hundreds of thousands of square
miles of the most fertile country on the globe?"

"Don't interest me," said Peer.

"Ah!" Ferdinand Holm lifted his glass to Merle. "Tell me, dear lady, how
does it feel to be married to an anachronism?"

"To--to what?" stammered Merle.

"Yes, your husband's an anachronism. He might, if he chose, be one of
the kings, the prophets, who lead the van in the fight for civilisation.
But he will not; he despises his own powers, and one day he will start a
revolution against himself. Mark my words. Your health, dear lady!"

Merle laughed, and lifted her glass, but hesitatingly, and with a
side-glance towards Peer.

"Yes, your husband is no better now than an egoist, a collector of happy
days."

"Well, and is that so very wicked?"

"He sits ravelling out his life into a multitude of golden threads,"
went on Ferdinand with a bow, his steely eyes trying to look gentle.

"But what is wrong in that?" said the young wife stoutly.

"It is wrong. It is wasting his immortal soul. A man has no right to
ravel out his life, even though the threads are of gold. A man's days of
personal happiness are forgotten--his work endures. And your husband
in particular--why the deuce should HE be so happy? The world-evolution
uses us inexorably, either for light or for fuel. And Peer--your
husband, dear lady--is too good for fuel."

Merle glanced again at her husband. Peer laughed, but then suddenly
compressed his lips and looked down at his plate.

Then the nurse c