or less in all of us. One loves to be able to say: ‘It is true that Peter or Paul is this, or this, or this, but . . . he is also that other: that cannot be denied him!’ And one is never so certain of being praised as when one is possessed of a very conspicuous failing. You, Verbrugge, are drunk every day . . .”
“I?” asked Verbrugge, who was a paragon of temperance.
“Yes, I am now making you drunk, daily! You forget yourself so far that Duclari of an evening stumbles over you in the veranda. He will think this disagreeable, but at once he will remember having noticed some good quality in you which, after all, was not conspicuous formerly. And when I come on the scene, and find you so objectionably . . . horizontal, he will lay his hand on my arm, and exclaim: ‘Ah! do believe that in every other respect he is such a dear, fine, smart fellow!’ ”
“That I’ll say of Verbrugge in any case,” exclaimed Duclari, “even when he is vertical.”
“But not with such fire and conviction! Just remember how often one hears: ‘Oh, if that man would look after his business, wouldn’t he be someone! But . . .’ and then follows the demonstration that he does mot look after his business, and is therefore nobody. I believe I know the reason of this. Of the dead, too, one always learns good qualities that formerly we never noticed. The cause is no doubt that they are not in anyone’s way. All men are more or less competitors. We would love to place everyone else quite, and in everything, below us. To express this, however, is forbidden by good manners and even by self-interest, for soon no one would believe us even though we maintained true things. We have, therefore, to find a roundabout way, and this is how we do it. When you, Duclari, say: ‘Lieut. Spatterdash is a good soldier, I swear he is a good soldier, I cannot tell you emphatically enough what a good soldier Lieutenant Spatterdash is . . . but he is no good at theory . . .’ Didn’t you say so, Duclari?”
“I have never known or seen a Lieutenant Spatterdash!”
