"Ah, so; and where do you suppose you are going to find any friends if you talk like that?" "Friends? And pray, what would I do with them?" There probably was, in the expression of my features, in the tone of my voice, such an appearance of truthfulness, that the count was really surprised. "Are you speaking seriously?" said he. "Very seriously, I assure you; what is there to astonish you in such a question?" "And you are not afraid to confess such an opinion?" "Why should I be afraid?" "Why?" replied the count, with a bewildered look. "Come, it is a paradox that amuses you. It is very amusing and original, no doubt, but I am certain that in your heart you do not believe a word you are saying." "Very well; let us talk about something else." "No, but seriously," he replied, "can you really mean to say, 'Of what use are friends?'" "Certainly I do. For example, what good am I to you? What good are you to me? Suppose we were never to meet after to-day, what would you lose? What would I? When I say you and I, I generalise. I mean, so far, at least, as I am concerned, those commonplace, trite affections for people we really care nothing about, to which the world gives the name of friendships." "I grant you that one can easily get along without any such friendships as those, or, rather, that they are so easy to find that nobody takes the trouble to seek for them. What I mean is real, true, deep, devoted friendship." "Nisus and Euryalus, Castor and Pollux?" "Yes. Would you say 'what to do with them' if you were ever fortunate enough to meet with such friends?" "I should surely say, 'What shall I do with them?' For, suppose I should ever find a Nisus, I know I never could become an Euryalus, and I hope I am too honest a man to accept what I never could return. "But, suppose I should really find that true, deep, sincere friendship that you spoke of just now. It would be perfectly useless and even a dead weight while I was happy, for then I hate confidences; so it would only be of any use to me when I was miserable. Now it is mathematically impossible that I shall ever be miserable." "How can that be?" said the count, more and more amazed. "For a very simple reason. My health is perfect, my name and connections place me on a level with any one, my fortune is in landed property, I have always two years' income ahead of my expenditures, I never play high, I never loan money,--how, then, am I ever to be miserable?" "But then you imagine there are no other troubles than physical pain or material embarrassment? And the sorrows of the heart?" said the count, and he really looked grieved. But I answered by such a burst of laughter that he seemed stunned; then he said: