grew bolder; and Cazotte's prophecy[1] had not as yet cast its ominous shadow over this gay and brilliant coterie. Moreover, what was there now that man might not do, after Montgolfier had ascended in the air, and Franklin had subdued the lightning?
The company talked first of the great American citizen; then of the great Frederick, who also was conceded to be somebody; next of Voltaire, with whom Frederick seemed to be fully reconciled. But, with all their worship of Voltaire, and with all their willingness to recognize his services in the cause of enlightenment, there was no getting over the fact that, in truth, he was an incorrigible deist.[2]
"How childish," remarked the host, "is his conception of the universe as a watch from which we may infer the watch-maker! Inasmuch as nothing is certain save the existence of matter, why look for any other causes than the forces of matter? What is there so inconceivable in the idea that an infinity of atoms, acting upon one another from eternity, should assume a definite arrangement, and so form worlds; that when in these worlds light, heat, moisture, and certain elements were present in the right proportions, the phenomenon which we call life should first appear as a germ, and then expand into ever-widening and more varied circles; that in this way the animal mechanism, and, finally, that of man himself, should have come into being?—a well-contrived mechanism, indeed, but not without many an imperfection; endowed with strength and beauty, but also afflicted with many a sad infirmity; capable of enjoying many a pleasure, but also threatened, alas! with still crueler sufferings."
There was general assent, but then were heard coming from a corner the piping tones of Galiani's voice:
"Ladies and gentlemen, for Heaven's sake, no metaphysics to-day! Let us talk of something else. Suppose I tell you of an occurrence I once witnessed on the Marina at Naples. A juggler had set up his booth, around which stood a group of lazzaroni and other folk, myself among them. After performing sundry tricks which have escaped my memory, the fellow offered us a wager that he could every time, with his dice, throw sixes. One or two of the gapers took up the bet. He did, in fact, throw sixes the first time, the second, third, fourth—"
"But, monsignor, this is a farce; either you are joking, or else the dice were cogged."
"Of course they were," Galiani replied. He had, as was his wont, climbed into his arm-chair, on which he squatted with his legs doubled up beneath him; he had his wig poised on his left hand, for the weather was hot, and, with his right, he gesticulated wildly, after the manner of his countrymen. "Of course they were cogged, and that was just the trick. The juggler did not say that he would throw sixes every time
