His honesty was his capital ... and he exacted usurious interest from it. Honesty gave him the right to be pitiless and not to do any good deed which was not prescribed;--and he was pitiless, and he did no good ... because good except by decree is not good. He never troubled himself about any one, except his own very exemplary self, and he was genuinely indignant if others did not take equally assiduous care of it! And, at the same time, he did not consider himself an egoist, and upbraided and persecuted egoists and egoism more than anything else!--Of course! Egoism in other people interfered with his own. Not being conscious of a single failing, he did not understand, he did not permit, a weakness in any one else. Altogether, he did not understand anybody or anything, for he was completely surrounded by himself on all sides, above and below, behind and before. He did not even understand the meaning of forgiveness. He never had had occasion to forgive himself.... Then how was he to forgive others? Before the bar of his own conscience, before the face of his own God, he, that marvel, that monster of virtue, rolled up his eyes, and in a firm, clear voice uttered: "Yes; I am a worthy, a moral man!" He repeated these words on his death-bed, and nothing quivered even then in his stony heart,--in that heart devoid of a fleck or a crack. O monstrosity of self-satisfied, inflexible, cheaply-acquired virtue--thou art almost more repulsive than the undisguised monstrosity of vice! December, 1878. THE SUPREME BEING'S FEAST One day the Supreme Being took it into his head to give a great feast in his azure palace. He invited all the virtues as guests. Only the virtues ... he invited no men ... only ladies. Very many of them assembled, great and small. The petty virtues were more agreeable and courteous than the great ones; but all seemed well pleased, and chatted politely among themselves, as befits near relatives and friends. But lo! the Supreme Being noticed two very beautiful ladies who, apparently, were entirely unacquainted with each other. The host took one of these ladies by the hand and led her to the other. "Beneficence!" said he, pointing to the first. "Gratitude!" he added, pointing to the second. The two virtues were unspeakably astonished; ever since the world has existed--and it has existed a long time--they had never met before. December, 1878. THE SPHINX Yellowish-grey, friable at the top, firm below, creaking sand ... sand without end, no matter in which direction one gazes! And above this sand, above this sea of dead dust, the huge head of the Egyptian Sphinx rears itself aloft. What is it that those vast, protruding lips, those impassively-dilated, up-turned nostrils, and those eyes, those long, half-sleepy, half-watchful eyes, beneath the double arch of the lofty brows, are trying to say?