Mr. van Koppen, connoisseur of cigars, opened his capacious case and offered its contents, without disclosing the fact that they were specially manufactured for him at a fabulous price. "You will find them smokable, I hope. As a matter of fact it's no use trying to keep a cigar in good condition on the yacht. And it must be the same on an island like this. So far as tobacco is concerned, Nepenthe can be nothing but a ship at anchor." "True," said the Count. "The moist sirocco is injurious to the finer growths." "This south wind!" exclaimed Mr. Heard. "This African pest! Is there no other wind hereabouts? Tell me, Count, does the sirocco always blow?" "So far as I have observed it blows constantly during the spring and summer. Hardly less constantly in autumn," he added. "And in winter, often for weeks on end." "Sounds promising," observed the bishop. "And has it no influence on the character?" "The native is accustomed, or resigned. Foreigners, sometimes, are tempted to strange actions under its influence." The American said: "You spoke of amalgamating our cuisine with yours, or vice versa. It can doubtless be done, to the profit of both parties. Why not go a step further? Why not amalgamate our respective civilizations?" "A pleasant dream, my friend, with which I have occasionally beguiled myself! Our contribution to human happiness, and that of America--are they not irreconcilable? What is yours? Comfort, time and labour saving contrivances; abundance; in a word, all that is summed up under the denomination of utility. Ours, let us say, is beauty. No doubt we could saturate ourselves with each other's ideals, to our mutual advantage. But it would never be an amalgam; the joints would show. It would be a successful graft, rather than a fusion of elements. No; I do not see how beauty and utility are ever to be syncretized into a homogeneous conception. They are too antagonistic to coalesce." "But there is abundant beauty and grandeur in modern American life," said the millionaire, "quite apart, I mean, from that of the natural scenery. A fine steam-engine, for instance--I call that a beautiful thing, perfectly adapted to its end. Is its beauty really so antagonistic to that of your civilization?" "I know that some excellent persons have been writing lately about the beauty of a swift-gliding motor-car and things of that kind. They are right, in one sense of the word. For there is a beauty to mechanical fitness which no art can enhance. But it is not the beauty of which I spoke." "And therefore," observed the bishop, "we ought to have another word for it."