. You call good evil, and evil good; our light is your
darkness, and our darkness your light. Yet surely you cannot be
altogether insane. Come, come, let us look further. How is it! Try now
to recall your reason. A long life--a life, and a long one! Surely
there can be no human being in a healthy state of nature who wishes to
prolong his life; and as to riches, it is possible that anyone exists
who really and honestly desires riches? Impossible! And requited love!
Oh, Atam-or, you are mad to-day! You are always strange, but now you
have quite taken leave of your senses. I cannot but love you, and yet
I can never understand you. Tell me, and tell me truly, what is it
that you consider evils, if these things that you have mentioned are
not the very worst?"

He seemed deeply in earnest and much moved. I could not understand
him, but could only answer his questions with simple conciseness.

"Poverty, sickness, and death," said I, "are evils; but the worst of
all evils is unrequited love."

At these words the Kohen made a gesture of despair.

"It is impossible to understand this," said he. "You talk calmly; you
have not the air of a madman. If your fellow-countrymen are all like
you, then your race is an incomprehensible one. Why, death is the
greatest blessing. We all long for it; it is the end of our being. As
for riches, they are a curse, abhorred by all. Above all, as to love,
we shrink from the thought of requital. Death is our chief blessing,
poverty our greatest happiness, and unrequited love the sweetest lot
of man."

All this sounded like the ravings of a lunatic, yet the Kohen was not
mad. It seemed also like the mockery of some teasing demon; but the
gentle and self-denying Kohen was no teasing demon, and mockery with
him was impossible. I was therefore more bewildered than ever at this
reiteration of sentiments that were so utterly incomprehensible. He,
on the other hand, seemed as astonished at my sentiments and as
bewildered, and we could find no common ground on which to meet.

"I remember now," said the Kohen, in a musing tone, "having heard of
some strange folk at the Amir, who profess to feel as you say you
feel, but no one believes that they are in earnest; for although they
may even bring themselves to think that they are in earnest in their
professions, yet after all everyone thinks that they are
self-deceived. For you see, in the first place, these feelings which
you profess are utterly unnatural