"No," said Philippe. And seeing that Annette was curious to know his reasons, he added, "Let's walk a little way together, shall we? It's rather unconventional, but conventions were not made for us." They walked along together. Annette was embarrassed and flattered. Philippe talked about the play with a mixture of hostility and humor such as Tolstoy himself--it was a fair enough turn of the wheel--had often employed in regard to people he did not like. He interrupted himself, amused at his severity, "I am not fair. . . . When I see a play I see those who are watching it. I see under their membranes, and the spectacle is not beautiful." "It is with some people," said Annette. "Yes, there are some people who have the gift of making the misery of the world seem beautiful. This saves them the trouble of remedying it. These good idealists manage to have many a sweet hour with the misfortunes of others. They serve them as a means for artistic or charitable emotions of the most tranquillizing kind, but they are of even more service to the villains who exploit them. Their sentimentality flies its protecting flag over patriotic leagues, leagues for repopulation, the founding of missions, colonial wars and other philanthropies. . . . The epoch of the teary eye! . . . There is no eye that is colder and more self-interested! The epoch of the kind employer--you have read Pierre Hamp?--who builds a church, a slaughter-house, a hospital and a brothel near his factory! Their lives are divided into two parts: one consists of talking about civilization, progress, democracy, the other of the sordid exploitation and destruction of the whole future of the world, the corruption of the race, the annihilation of the other races of Asia and Africa. . . . After this they go and melt with emotion over Maslova and take their afternoon nap to the soft harmonies of Debussy. . . . Look out when the awakening comes! Ferocious hatreds are piling up. The catastrophe is coming. . . . So much the better! All their dirty medicine does is to keep diseases going. Some day they will have to come to surgery." "Will the patient recover?" "I take away the disease. The patient has to take his chance!" A joke. Annette smiled. Philippe threw her a sidelong glance. "It doesn't frighten you?" "I am not ill," said Annette. He stopped and looked at her. "No, you are not. In your presence one breathes the fragrance of health. It frees me from my physical and moral infections. The latter are the worst. Excuse my diatribe! But I've come from a meeting, a dispute with a gang of hypocrites over the official support of disease--that is, over hygiene. I was furious and suffocating with disgust, and when I saw you with your clear eyes, walking along so freely, with everything about you so proud and wholesome, I selfishly drank in a whiff of your air. There! It's better now. Thank you." "So I'm promoted to the rank of a doctor. And after what you have just been saying about them?"