I cannot sufficiently express what a good soldier Lieutenant Slobkous is, . . . . but he is no theorist. . . .’ did you not say so, Duclari?”
“I never knew or saw a Lieutenant Slobkous.”
“Very well, make one, and say that of him.”
“Well, I make him, and say it.”
“Do you know what you have now said? You have said that you, Duclari, are thoroughly acquainted with theory. I am not a bit better. Believe me, we are wrong to be so angry. with one who is very bad, for the good ones amongst us are very near the bad. Suppose we call perfection 0, and take 100 degrees to be bad, how very wrong we are then, who fluctuate between 98 and 99, to call shame on a person who stands at 101. And still I believe that many do not attain the 100th degree for want of good qualities, courage, for instance, to be quite what 1 is.”
“At what degree do I stand, Max?”
“I want a magnifying-glass for the subdivisions, Tine.”
“I object,” cried Verbrugge—“no, Madam! considering your proximity to the 0,—no, functionaries are suspended, a child is lost, a General is accused. . . .”
“But where’s the story?”
“Tine, take care that next time there is something in the house. No, Verbrugge, you will not get ‘the story’ until I have been a little time longer on my hobby-horse, on the spirit of contradiction. I said every man sees in
