my side could not. We are
all glossed over outside, all and everywhere over-refined--no, not all,
but most of us: were all so, the sun would never again rise upon the
earth. But the time will come, and you are one of those awaiting its
coming, you will share in its life,--the time will come, when men shall
dissemble no more, shall lie no more, shall pass themselves off for no
more than they are, and shall be what they profess to be. Do you
comprehend me?"

"Perfectly, perfectly."

"Know, then, I tell you that I have not done what I ought to have done.
I have not gone from hour to hour into the presence of those in power,
and said, 'Thus am I, and thus must you be.' I have lulled myself with
a false philosophy; I have persuaded myself that all would be
spontaneously unfolded of itself; that we are in the direct line of the
developing tendencies, and we have nothing to do in furtherance
thereof. Ha, ha! unfold of itself! Yes, death comes of itself, death
comes, and takes away the life that was no real life, no candid
revealment, no genuine self. I once knew a great actor. To an actor,
death will always be the hardest, not only because he has so often
counterfeited death, but because he knows that he leaves behind him his
parts, his masks, his paints, his wilted wreaths, his rounds of
applause, and he can never be called out again. My son, we
diplomatists, we die the death of the actor. I have led an unprofitable
life. I had no fatherland to give me other than diplomatic farces to
perform. My life has been a busy inactivity: I have spent the greatest
part of my life in the livery and the defence of a cause which I did
not respect, scarcely had any regard for. Here is this slave-trader.
Fie! the whole world calls out in horror: and yet, in circles held in
high estimation, there are far worse than slave-traders. Others, again,
are not in the house of correction, because they were under no
necessity of stealing, and because they were bought off by money from
being positively immoral. There, give me now, I beg, a cooling draught,
my mouth is parched."

Eric gave Clodwig a draught; but they were both so awkward, that it was
almost all spilled.

"No matter, no matter," said Clodwig, smiling, "that's the way in this
world: only the smaller part is really drunk, the larger part gets
spilled, wasted. There, now go, and let the Doctor come, but come back
again afterwards."

Eric went and called the physician. Bella asked wha