present. Go," said Harding, "and you will hear her calling his name."
Then, picking up the thread of the paradox, he continued--"But you
can't have Don Juan in this century, our civilization has wiped him
out; not the vice of which he is representative--that is eternal--but
the spectacle of adventure of which he is the hero. No more
fascinating idea. Had the age admitted of Don Juan, I should have
written out his soul long ago. I love the idea. With duelling and
hose picturesqueness has gone out of life. The mantle and the rapier
are essential; and angry words...."

"Are angry words picturesque?"

"Angry words mean angry attitudes; and they are picturesque."

The young men smiled at the fascinating eloquence, and feeling an
appreciative audience about him, Harding continued--

"See Mike Fletcher, know him, understand him, and imagine what he
would have been in the eighteenth century, the glory of adventure he
would have gathered. His life to-day is a mean parody upon an easily
realizable might-have-been. So vital is the idea in him that his life
to-day is the reflection of a life that burned in another age too
ardently to die with death. In another age Mike would have outdone
Casanova. Casanova!--what a magnificent Casanova he would have been!
Casanova is to me the most fascinating of characters. He was
everything--a frequenter of taverns and palaces, a necromancer. His
audacity and unscrupulousness, his comedies, his immortal memoirs!
What was that delightful witty remark he made to some stupid husband
who lay on the ground, complaining that Casanova hadn't fought
fairly? You remember? it was in an avenue of chestnut trees,