It is unalterably settled that from this moment on I should be an
object of your sympathy, which in itself is not very agreeable, and
every word you might hear me exchange with my wife would be subject to
your check, whether you would or no, and if my wife should speak of
fidelity or should pronounce judgment upon another woman, as women
have a way of doing, I should not know which way to look. Moreover, if
it came to pass that I counseled charitable consideration in some
wholly commonplace affair of honor, 'because of the apparent lack of
deception,' or something of the sort, a smile would pass over your
countenance, or at least a twitch would be noticeable, and in your
heart you would say: 'poor Innstetten, he has a real passion for
analyzing all insults chemically, in order to determine their
insulting contents, and he _never_ finds the proper quantity of the
suffocating element. He has never yet been suffocated by an affair.'
Am I right, Wuellersdorf, or not?"
Wuellersdorf had risen to his feet. "I think it is awful that you
should be right, but you _are_ right. I shall no longer trouble you
with my 'must it be.' The world is simply as it is, and things do not
take the course _we_ desire, but the one _others_ desire. This talk
about the 'ordeal,' with which many pompous orators seek to assure us,
is sheer nonsense, there is nothing in it. On the contrary, our cult
of honor is idolatry, but we must submit to it so long as the idol is
honored.
Pages:
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508