"No," said Malbone, "therefore this does not trouble me, but it troubles you. I am content. My digestion is good. I can always amuse myself. Why are you not satisfied?""Because you are not," said Harry. "You are dissatisfied with men, and so you care chiefly to amuse yourself with women and children.""I dare say," said Malbone, carelessly. "They are usually less ungraceful and talk better grammar.""But American life does not mean grace nor grammar. We are all living for the future. Rough work now, and the graces by and by." "That is what we Americans always say," retorted Philip. "Everything is in the future. What guaranty have we for that future? I see none. We make no progress towards the higher arts, except in greater quantities of mediocrity.We sell larger editions of poor books. Our artists fill largerframes and travel farther for materials; but a ten-inch canvas would tell all they have to say.""The wrong point of view," said Hal. "If you begin with high art, you begin at the wrong end. The first essential for any nation is to put the mass of the people above the reach of want. We are all usefully employed, if we contribute to that.""So is the cook usefully employed while preparing dinner," said Philip. "Nevertheless, I do not wish to live in the kitchen.""Yet you always admire your own country," said Harry, "so long as you are in Europe.""No doubt," said Philip. "I do not object to the kitchen at that distance. And to tell the truth, America looks well from Europe. No culture, no art seems so noble as this far-off spectacle of a self-governing people. The enthusiasm lasts till one's return. Then there seems nothing here but to work hard and keep out of mischief.""That is something," said Harry.
"A good deal in America," said Phil. "We talk about the immorality of older countries. Did you ever notice that no class of men are so apt to take to drinking as highly cultivated Americans? It is a very demoralizing position, when one's tastes outgrow one's surroundings. Positively, I think a man is more excusable for coveting his neighbor's wife in America than in Europe, because there is so little else to covet.""Malbone!" said Hal, "what has got into you? Do you know what things you are saying?""Perfectly," was the unconcerned reply. "I am not arguing; I am only testifying. I know that in Paris, for instance, I myself have no temptations. Art and history are so delightful, I absolutely do not care for the society even of women; but here, where there is nothing to do, one must have some stimulus, and for me, who hate drinking, they are, at least, a more refined excitement.""More dangerous," said Hal. "Infinitely more dangerous, in the morbid way in which you look at life. What have these sickly fancies to do with the career that opens to every brave man in a great nation?""They have everything to do with it, and there are many for whom there is no career. As the nation develops, it must produce men of high culture. Now there is no place for them except as bookkeepers or pedagogues or newspaper reporters. Meantime the incessant unintellectual activity is only a sublime bore to those who stand aside.""Then why stand aside?" persisted the downright Harry.
"I have no place in it but a lounging-place," said Malbone. "I do not wish to chop blocks with a razor. I envy those men, born mere Americans, with no ambition in life but to 'swing a railroad' as they say at the West. Every morning I hope to wake up like them in the fear of God and the love of money.""You may as well stop," said Harry, coloring a little. "Malbone, you used to be my ideal man in my boyhood, but"--"I am glad we have got beyond that," interrupted the other, cheerily, "I am only an idler in the land. Meanwhile, I have my little interests,--read, write, sketch--""Flirt?" put in Hal, with growing displeasure.
"Not now," said Phil, patting his shoulder, with imperturbable good- nature. "Our beloved has cured me of that. He who has won the pearl dives no more.""Do not let us speak of Hope," said Harry. "Everything that you have been asserting Hope's daily life disproves.""That may be," answered Malbone, heartily. "But, Hal, I never flirted; I always despised it. It was always a grande passion with me, or what I took for such. I loved to be loved, I suppose; and there was always something new and fascinating to be explored in a human heart, that is, a woman's.""Some new temple to profane?" asked Hal severely.
"Never!" said Philip. "I never profaned it. If I deceived, I shared the deception, at least for a time; and, as for sensuality, I had none in me.""Did you have nothing worse? Rousseau ends where Tom Jones begins.""My temperament saved me," said Philip."A woman is not a womanto me, without personal refinement."
"Just what Rousseau said," replied Harry.
"I acted upon it," answered Malbone. "No one dislikes Blanche Ingleside and her demi monde more than I.""You ought not," was the retort. "You help to bring other girls to her level.""Whom?" said Malbone, startled. "Emilia.""Emilia?" repeated the other, coloring crimson. "I, who have warned her against Blanche's society.""And have left her no other resource," said Harry, coloring still more. "Malbone, you have gained (unconsciously of course) too much power over that girl, and the only effect of it is, to keep her in perpetual excitement. So she seeks Blanche, as she would any other strong stimulant. Hope does not seem to have discovered this, but Kate has, and I have."Hope came in, and Harry went out. The next day he came to Philip and apologized most warmly for his unjust and inconsiderate words. Malbone, always generous, bade him think no more about it, and Harry for that day reverted strongly to his first faith. "So noble, so high-toned," he said to Kate. Indeed, a man never appears more magnanimous than in forgiving a friend who has told him the truth.
