"For how much time? For a long time, sometimes for a whole life," said the lady, shrugging her shoulders.
"But that happens only in novels, and never in real life. In real life this preference of one to others may last a few years, which it rarely does; more frequently for months, or weeks, days, and even hours," he said, being apparently conscious of puzzling all with this opinion of his, and satisfied with it.
"Oh, how can you say that? But no. No, excuse me," all three of us spoke at the same time. Even the clerk uttered a certain sound of disapproval.
"Yes, I know," the gray-haired gentleman tried to rise above our voices, "you are speaking of that which you assume as existing, whereas I speak of that which really is. Every man experiences that which you call love in the presence of any beautiful woman."
"Ah, what you say is terrible! But there certainly is among people that feeling which is called love, and which lasts for months and years, and even for a lifetime?"
"No, there is not! Even if we should grant that a man might prefer a certain woman for all his life, the woman, in all probability, would prefer another, and thus it has always been, and always will be," he said, and, drawing out his cigarette-holder, he lighted a cigarette.
"But there might be a mutual feeling," said the lawyer.
"No, that cannot be," he retorted, "just as it is impossible that any two marked peas out of a bag of peas should happen to lie together. Besides, it is not only a question of probability, but of certain satiety. To love one and the same person all your life amounts to saying that one candle will burn a lifetime," he said, taking a long puff at his cigarette.
"You are all speaking of carnal love. Do you not admit love based on oneness of ideals, on spiritual affinity?" said the lady.
"Spiritual affinity! Oneness of ideals!" he repeated,
