"Did I?" and Heliobas looked cheerfully interested. "Really I was
not aware of it, I assure you! Possibly my ways and doings may
have occasionally furnished the Parisians with something to talk
about instead of the weather, and I know I made some few friends
and an astonishing number of enemies, if that is what you mean by
distinction and renown!"

Alwyn smiled--his smile was always reluctant, and had in it more
of sadness than sweetness, yet it gave his features a singular
softness and beauty, just as a ray of sunlight falling on a dark
picture will brighten the tints into a momentary warmth of seeming
life.

"All reputation means that, I think," he said, "unless it be
mediocre--then one is safe; one has scores of friends, and scarce
a foe. Mediocrity succeeds wonderfully well nowadays--nobody hates
it, because every one feels how easily they themselves can attain
to it. Exceptional talent is aggressive--actual genius is
offensive; people are insulted to have a thing held up for their
admiration which is entirely out of their reach. They become like
bears climbing a greased pole; they see a great name above them--a
tempting sugary morsel which they would fain snatch and devour--
and when their uncouth efforts fail, they huddle together on the
ground beneath, look up with dull, peering eyes, and impotently
snarl! But you,"--and here his gazed rested doubtfully, yet
questioningly, on his companion's open, serene countenance--'you,
if rumor speaks truly, should have been able to tame YOUR bears
and turn them into dogs, humble and couchant! Your marvellous
achievements as a mesmerist--"