disappointment, no less than vice; but the defeats and
disappointments of virtue bring with them no gloom or distress, for
they do but tend to soothe and enlighten our thoughts. An act of
virtue may sink into the void, but it is then, most of all, that we
learn to gauge the depths of life and of soul; and often will it
fall into these depths like a radiant stone, beside which our
thoughts loom pale. With every vicious scheme that fails before the
innocence of Pierrette, Madame Rogron's soul shrivels anew; whereas
the clemency of Titus, falling on thankless soil, docs but induce
him to lift his eyes on high, far beyond love or pardon. There is no
gain in shutting out the world, though it be with walls of
righteousness. The last gesture of virtue should be that of an angel
flinging open the door. We should welcome our disillusions; for were
it the will of destiny that our pardon should always transform an
enemy into a brother, then should we go to our grave still unaware
of all that springs to light within us beneath the act of unwise
clemency, whose unwisdom we never regret. We should die without once
having matched all that is best in our soul against the forces that
hedge life around. The kindly deed that is wasted, the lofty or only
loyal thought that falls on barren ground--these too have their
value, for the light they throw differs far from the radiance
triumphant virtue suffuses; and thus may we see many things in their
differing aspect. There were surely much joy in the thought that
love must invariably triumph; but greater joy is there still in
tearing aside this illusion, am marching straight on to the truth.
"Man has been but too prone," said a philosopher, whom death carried
off too soon--"man has been but too prone, through all the course of
his history, to lodge his dignity within his errors, and to look
upon truth as a thing that depreciated himself. It may sometimes
seem less glorious than illusion, but it has the advantage of being