was sanctimoniously satisfied with itself. It was,
for example, quite certain that our friend had no scruples in making
profit out of the vices or misfortunes of his neighbors, provided that
he was not in his own opinion, the person who was solely, or chiefly
responsible for them. But, on the whole, it was only one manner of
looking at it, nothing more, and there were plenty of materials for
casuistic arguments in it. This kind of discussion is particularly
unpleasant to such simple natures as that of his worthy fellow, who
would have replied to the psychologist.

"Why go on a wild goose chase? As for me, I am perfectly sincere."

You must not, however, believe that this perfect sincerity prevented him
from having elevated views. He prided himself on having a weakness for
imagination and the unforeseen, and if he would have been offended at
being called a dishonorable man, he would, perhaps have been still more
hurt if anybody had attributed middle-class tastes to him.

Accordingly, in love affairs, he expressed a most virtuous horror of
adultery, for if he had committed it, it would not have been able to
bear that testimony to himself, which was so sweet to his conscience:

"Ah! As for me, I can declare that I never wronged anybody!"

While, on the other hand, he was not satisfied with pleasure which was
paid for by the hour, and which debases _the noblest desires of the
heart_, to the vulgar satisfaction of a physical requirement. What he
required, so he used to say, while lifting his eyes up to heaven was:

"Something rather more ideal than that!"

That search after the ideal did not, indeed, cost him any great effort,
as it was limited to not going to licensed houses of ill-fame, and to
not accosting streetwalkers with the simple words: "How much?"

It consisted chiefly in wishing to be gallant even with such women, and
in trying to persuade himself that they liked him for his own sake, and
in preferring those whose manner, dress and looks allowed room for
suppositions and romantic illusions, such as:

"She might be taken for a little work-girl who has not yet lost her
virtue."

"No, I rather think she is a widow, who has met with misfortunes."

"What if she be a fashionable lady in disguise!"

And other nonsense, which he knew to be such, even while imagining it,
but whose imaginary flavor was very pleasant to him, all the same.

With such tastes, it was only natural that this pilgrim followed and
pus