He glanced first at the doctor, then at Cuckoo as he spoke. "I am thankful to say," he added in his clear, cool voice, "that I have no longer either the perpetual timidity of the self-doubter or even the occasional anxiety of the egoist." "You have passed into a region which even egoism cannot enter." "Possibly--the average egoism." "The average egoism of the end of the century moves in a very rarefied air." "Its feet touch ground nevertheless." "And yours?" Valentine only laughed, as if he considered the question merely rhetorical or jocose. "But we are getting away from the question, which was not personal," he said. "I contend that doctors, as a body, are bound to combat these modern Athenians, who are inclined to attribute everything to some obscure action of the mind. For, if their beliefs are founded on rock, and if they can themselves sufficiently, by asceticism, or by following any other fixed course of life which they may select as the right one, train their minds to do that which they believe can be done, the profession of doctors may in time be abolished. Mind will be the universal medicine; will, not simply the cure, but the preventive, of disease." "And of death?" the doctor asked quietly. "Will man be able to think himself into an eternity on earth?" Valentine looked at him very strangely. "You ask that question seriously?" he said. "I ask seriously whether you think so." It was evident that the doctor meant to make the question above all things a personal one. This time Valentine accepted that condition. He sat for a moment twisting his champagne-glass about in his long fingers, and glancing rapidly from the doctor to Cuckoo, who heard this conversation without very well understanding it. Indeed, she sat beneath her bell of violets in much confusion, _distraite_ in her desire to command intellectual faculties which she did not possess. Valentine watched her narrowly, though he seemed unattentive to her. Perhaps he thought of his delivery of his gospel to her, and wondered if she recalled it at this moment; or perhaps once more he began to rejoice in her mental distress and alienation. "Wade," he said "the champagne to Mr. Addison. Well, doctor, suppose I acknowledged that I did so--mind, I don't acknowledge it!--you might, on your side, think something too--that I am mad, for instance. Ah! Miss Bright has knocked over her glass!" Cuckoo murmured a stumbling apology, gazing with nervous intentness at Valentine. It seemed to her that he had a gift of divination. Doctor Levillier laughed gently. "I am not inclined to suppose all my opponents in thought mad," he said. "Still, such a belief would certainly indicate in the holder of it the possession of a mind so uncommon, so unique, I may say, that it would naturally rouse one to very close attention and observation of it." "Exactly," Valentine rejoined.