stand in the midst of them, with his eyes and ears on the watch; and
the emotion that lived and died in an old-fashioned country parlour
shall as mightily stir our heart, shall as unerringly find its way
to the deepest sources of life, as the majestic passion that ruled
the life of a king and shed its triumphant lustre from the dazzling
height of a throne. "There are certain little agitations," says
Balzac in the Cure de Tours, the most admirable of all his studies
of humble life--"there are certain little agitations that are
capable of generating as much passion within the soul as would
suffice to direct the most important social interests. Is it not a
mistake to imagine that time only flies swiftly with those whose
hearts are devoured by mighty schemes, which fret and fever their
life? Not an hour sped past the Abbe Troubert but was as animated,
as laden with its burden of anxious thought, as lined with pleading
hope and deep despair, as could be the most desperate hour of
gambler, plotter, or lover. God alone can tell how much energy is
consumed in the triumphs we achieve over men, and things, and
ourselves. We may not be always aware whither our steps are leading,
but are only too fully conscious of the wearisomeness of the
Journey. And yet--if the historian may be permitted to lay aside,
for one moment, the story he is telling, and to assume the role of
the critic--as you cast your eyes on the lives of these old maids
and these two priests, seeking to learn the cause of the sorrow
which twisted their heartstrings, it will be revealed to you,
perhaps, that certain passions must be experienced by man for there
to develop within him the qualities that make a life noble, that
widen its area, and stifle the egoism natural to all."

He speaks truly. Not for its own sake, always, should we love the
light, but for the sake of what it illumines. The fire on the