novelists are always girding at the precious quality of conformity. The
sadness of our times lies in this questioning spirit. Never was there
more revolt, especially among the young. To find the individual judging
for himself is a grave symptom of national degeneration. But this is not
a subject--"

"Surely, the subject is of the most poignant interest to all young
people." Again all the young ones raised their faces and moved them
slightly from side to side.

"My dear lady, we are too prone to let the interest that things arouse
blind our judgment in regard to the advisability of discussing them. We
let these speculations creep and creep until they twine themselves round
our faith and paralyze it."

One of the young men interjected suddenly: "Madre"--and was silent.

"I shall not, I think"--it was the lady speaking--"be accused of licence
when I say that I have always felt that speculation is only dangerous
when indulged in by the crude intelligence. If culture has nothing to
give us, then let us have no culture; but if culture be, as I think it,
indispensable, then we must accept the dangers that culture brings."

Again the young people moved their faces, and again the younger of the
two young men said: "Madre--"

"Dangers? Have cultured people dangers?"

Who had spoken thus? Every eyebrow was going up, every mouth was
drooping, and there was silence. The boy stared at his companion. In