you from the road that
leads to the goal; let the dogs bark and pass on. According to the way
you behave in life, you will be your greatest friend or your bitterest
enemy. There is no more 'luck' than that in the world.

CHAPTER III

BEWARE OF THE FINISHING TOUCH

'Leave well enough alone,' as the English say, is a piece of advice
which may be followed with benefit in many circumstances of life.

How many excellent pictures have been spoiled by the finishing touch!
How often have I heard art critics, after examining a beautiful
portrait, exclaim, 'H'm, leche!' Well, I cannot translate that French
art expression better than by 'Too much retouched--too well finished!'
This is a fault commonly found in women's portraits.

How many fortunes have been lost because people, instead of being
satisfied with reasonable profits, waited for stocks to go still higher,
and got caught in a financial crash!

Even in literature I see sad results, when authors follow too closely
that principle laid down by Boileau for the elaboration of style:
'Polish and repolish it incessantly.'

Alas! how many stilted lines are due to the too strict obedience to this
advice! What is too well finished often becomes far-fetched and
unnatural.

How many sauces have been spoiled by cooks trying to improve what was
already very good!

How many wings have been singed for not knowing how to keep at a
respectful distance from the fire or the light!

No doubt there is such a thing as perfection; but who is perfect and
what is perfect in this world, except that ineffable lady who, some
weeks ago, took me severely to task for having written an article in
which I advised my readers to be good, but not to overdo it?

The firmaments are perfect, some flowers are perfect, but these are not
the work of man. Nature herself seems to have divided her gifts so as to
have no absolute perfection in her creatures. The nightingale has song,
but no plumage; the peacock has plumage, but his voice makes you stop
your ears.

And the women! Well, yes, the women--let us speak of them.

Which of us, my dear fellow-men, has not admired a woman of ours whose
toilet was finished? We thought she looked beautiful then, we admired
her, and we put on our gloves proudly, saying:

'She is coming.' Yet she did not come. True, her hat was on and fixed
when we saw her, and we thought that she was ready. Not a bit of it. She
was not.

After she has finished dressing