a man who teaches me that sorrow is true joy. I believe him, for he knows the truth."
"And I, sweetheart," replied Nicias, smiling, "I know the truths. He knows but one, I know them all. I am superior to him in that respect, but to tell the truth, it doesn't make me any the prouder nor any the happier."
Then, seeing that the monk was glaring fiercely at him —
"My dear Paphnutius, do not imagine that I think you extremely absurd, or even altogether unreasonable. And if I were to compare your life with mine, I could not say which is preferable in itself. I shall presently go and take the bath which Crobyle and Myrtale have prepared for me; I shall eat the wing of a Phasian pheasant; then I shall read — for the hundredth time — some fable by Apuleius, or some treatise by Porphyry. You will return to your cell, where, leaning like a tame camel, you will ruminate on — I know not what — formulas of incantations you have long chewed and rechewed, and in the evening you will swallow some radishes without any oil. Well, my dear friend, in accomplishing these acts, so different apparently, we are both obeying the same sentiment, the only motive for all human actions; we are both seeking our own pleasure, and striving to attain the same end — happiness, the impossible happiness. It would be
