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 Never that! His face was aflame with a passionate denial.

What then? she demanded quickly, as if his contradictory spirit had amazed her.

He became calmer at once. I only mean to say, he explained coldly, that the plan, or lack of plan, you have just suggested is not my ideal.

She did not ask him to define his ideal. Instead, she lighted a cigarette, and inquired, Have you seen Paul?

Yes. He came to our gymnasium again last night. Paul has made a great decision: he is going to work.

But are you so sure, was Campaspe's next question, that work will be good for Paul?

Of course, I am. Work is good for everybody. It is even necessary. In a way, he continued, proudly, I made him do it.

Campaspe disregarded this boast. What about the philosopher in his ivory tower, the monk in the desert, the astronomer gazing at the stars? she catechized him.

Dust and ashes, he pronounced solemnly. They don't get anywhere. How can they? Man must work to forget the horror of infinity. These monks and philosophers prompt us to remember it.

Who does get anywhere? she persisted, now scrutinizing his face closely. At this moment she had a curious impression of an unterrestrial radiance