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 scorner who still turns a deaf ear to her counsel: he has got himself stoned out of Brussels; the rattlesnakes of the press shake their rattles at him, the clerical and imperial gazettes have brought to light all his secret sins, drunkenness, theft, avarice, inhospitality, the bad wine and lenten fare set before his guests, and so forth; M. Veuillot is so witty as to call him pumpkin-head; it is all his own fault; to resist evil is doubtless a good thing, but it is a bad thing to stand alone; to rate and rebuke success, to be rough with those who have the upper hand, is really a blockhead's trick; all conquerors are in the right, and all that glitters is gold: the god of the winds is God, and the weathercock is the symbol of his worship.—And then there is always some little admixture of positive right in actual fact, some little residue of good discoverable in all evil, which it should be your business to seek out. If Torquemada is in power you warm yourself at the stake.—It is better to look for the real than for the true; the reality will help you to live, the truth will be the ruin of you; the reality is afraid of the truth—A man's duty is just to make use of facts; you (says the voice of good counsel) have read it wrong: you are like a man who should take a star out of heaven to light him when a candle would serve better to see the way by. To this sound advice we see too plainly that the hearer on whom it is wasted prefers the dictation of the voice which speaks in answer, admitting that this low sort of light may have its partisans, may be found excellent and may really be useful to avoid a shock, ward off a projectile, walk well-nigh straight by in the dark cross-roads, and find your whereabouts among small duties; it serves publicans very