contempt. It was the essence of all that was stupid.

But when his sister asked for an explanation and enquired whether the
purpose of spoken language was not the expression of human thought,
the young sophist replied with a phrase picked up from one of the
masters who in his turn had borrowed it from Talleyrand. Language was
invented to hide one's thoughts. This, of course, was beyond the
horizon of a young girl (how well men know how to hide their
shortcomings), but henceforth she believed her brother to be
tremendously learned, and stopped arguing with him.

And was there not even a worse stumbling-block in aesthetics, delusive
and deceptive, casting a veil of borrowed splendour and sham beauty
over everything? They sang of "The Knights' Vigil of Light." What
knights' vigil? With patents of nobility and students' certificates;
false testimonials, as they might have told themselves. Of light? That
was to say of the upper classes who had the greatest interest in
keeping the lower classes in darkness, a task in which they were ably
assisted by church and school. "And onward, onward, on the path of
light!"

Things were always called by the wrong name. And if it so happened
that a light-bearer arose from the lower classes, everybody was ready
and prepared to extinguish his torch. Oh! youthful, healthy host of
fighters! How healthy they were, all these young men, enervated by
idleness, unsatisfied desires and ambitions, who scorned every man who
had not the means to pay for a University education! What splendid
liars they were, the poets of the upper classes! Were they the
deceivers or the deceived?