"Ah, for my poor Hubert the cuisine was a real passion. To satisfy hunger was only a vile trade, he said, but to make people eat when they were not hungry, he considered a fine art, and one he placed higher than many another." "And he was quite right," said I to Lord Falmouth; "for if we all were virtuous enough only to care for sensual pleasures, how deadly stupid life would be! The most admirable thing about the cravings of physical appetite is that they can always be appeased, and being satisfied, bring us a torpor, a dullness, which has a certain charm, while the desires of the mind, its most splendid imaginings, only fill us with regret and bitterness." "I think as you do," said Lord Falmouth, "it is evident that every abstract thought pursued too long a time only leaves us in a state of lassitude and chagrin, because it is not given to the human species to comprehend the eternally true, nor to attain to the eternally perfect, while a physical appetite liberally satisfied leaves the organisation calm and contented, because in this man has fulfilled an exact want of nature." "That is true; thought wears one out and destroys one." "And besides," said Lord Falmouth, as he slowly emptied his glass, "all this time life is passing, every day we exclaim, 'What a bore!' but that doesn't prevent, Lord be praised! the hours from gliding along all the same." "And so we arrive," said I, "at the end of our term of life, day by day,--hour after hour." Lord Falmouth made a gesture of resignation, filled his glass, and pushed the decanter over to me. We remained this way some moments without speaking a word. Lord Falmouth was the first to break the silence. He said to me: "Is your travelling carriage in order?" "To be sure it is," said I, very much surprised at such a sudden question. "Listen," said he, as though he were speaking of the most ordinary topic. "At the present hour you are extremely unhappy. You have not told me why, consequently I am ignorant as to the cause of your grief. Paris is as hateful to you as it is a bore to me. I have sometimes dreamed of a wild project which I have always wished to carry out, so seductive has it seemed to me, but to do so I need a companion who feels in himself the energy and desire to attain to new and powerful emotions, perhaps at the risk of his life." I looked steadily at Lord Falmouth. He continued to drain his glass in little sips. "I needed, in order to put this plan into execution, to find some one who, in order to become my associate, would be ready, as the country folks say, to go to the devil,--not through want, but from a superabundance of the joys and good things of this life." I continued to watch Lord Falmouth, thinking that he was joking; he remained just as calm and serious as he always was. "Well," said he at length, "are you willing to be that companion?" "But what is it that I am expected to undertake?" I asked him, with a smile.