"I believe it would be better for my understanding if you made a full confession." She did not mean to be relentless, but her curiosity was too strong not to press her advantage. "Well, then, over here as elsewhere in the world there are standards by which we judge persons who come under our notice." "Agreed. Individuality is not generally understandable." "By the mediocre, you might have added. That's the difficulty with individuality; it refuses to be harnessed by mediocrity, and mediocrity holds the whip-hand, always. I represent the mediocre." "Oh, never!" said Elsa animatedly. "Mediocrity is always without courage." "You are wrong. It has the courage of its convictions." "Rather is it not stubbornness, wilful refusal to recognize things as they are?" He countered the question with another. "Supposing we were all individuals, in the sense you mean? Supposing each of us did exactly as he pleased? Can you honestly imagine a more confusing place than this world would be? The Manchurian pony is a wild little beast, an individual if ever there was one; but man tames him and puts to use his energies. And so it is with human individuality. We of the mediocre tame it and harness and make it useful to the general welfare of humanity. And when we encounter the untamable, in order to safeguard ourselves, we must turn it back into the wilderness, an outlaw. Indeed, I might call individuality an element, like fire and water and air." "But who conquer fire and water and air?" Elsa demanded, believing she had him pocketed. "Mediocrity, through the individual of this or that being. Humanity in the bulk is mediocre. And odd as it seems, individuality (which is another word for genius) believes it leads mediocrity. But it can not be made to understand that mediocrity ordains the leadership." "Then you contend that in the hands of the stupid lies the balance of power?" "Let us not say stupid, rather the unimaginative, the practical and the plodding. The stubbornest person in the world is one with an idea." "Do you honestly insist that you are mediocre?" "No," thoughtfully. "I am one of those stubborn men with ideas. I merely insist that I prefer to accept the tenets of mediocrity for my own peace and the peace of others." Elsa forgot those about her, forgot her intended humiliation of the man at her side. He denied that he was an individual, but he was one, as interesting a one as she had met in a very long time. She, too, had made a blunder. Quick to form opinions, swift to judge, she stood guilty with the common lot, who permit impressions instead of evidence to sway them. Here was a man. "We have gone far afield," she said, a tacit admission that she could not refute his dissertations. This knowledge, however, was not irksome. "Rather have we not come to the bars? Shall we let them down?" "Proceed."