If this does not seem possible to you, remember that you possess the immense library of humankind and all its museums. Think of all you have read and admired. Think of it with pride and affection. Think of all that remains to you to see and to read and tell yourself how marvelous it is to be so ignorant as to have such riches in reserve, to have such treasures to conquer. Amid the ordeals and the disillusionments of your existence, lift your soul every day toward those divine brothers who are our masters, and repeat with a proud humility: “It is sweet to sit down at your feast! And how good to think that it is to you we owe our opulence and our prosperity!” VI SORROW AND RENUNCIATION I If, concerning an old man, some one said to us: “He has been perfectly happy all his life, he is going to die without ever having suffered,” we should be incredulous at first; then, if we were obliged to admit the truth of the remark, we should feel for this old man not so much envy as pity. With our astonishment would be mingled, in spite of all, something a little like contempt. Happiness is our aim, the final reason for our living. But is it fair to say that sorrow is opposed to happiness? There are sorrows that one cannot, that one should not, escape. They are the very price we pay for happiness. It is by means of them that we travel toward our own development. They prepare us for joy and render us worthy of it. Without them, could we ever know that we were happy? If I believed, O my unknown friend for whom today I am hoping these consolations, if I believed that you could reach happiness, that is to say, the harmonious prosperity of your soul, without experiencing any agonies, I should not undertake to praise your suffering. But you suffer, I know it, and you are called to other sufferings. Henceforth I shall not refrain from praising what wounds you. For one does not console anyone by depreciating his grief, but by showing him how beautiful, how rare, how desirable it is, and your suffering can truly be called that. I do not dream, then, of depriving you of your wealth. I only hope that you will be able to appreciate its full value. I beg that you will pardon me if I chance to hurt you by placing my hand upon your wound. I do it, you may be sure, with the affection and the solicitude of a man who has consecrated his life to such tasks. They will tell you, my friend, that I am seeking to flatter your distress by reasonings that are full of guile, that I am singing to lull you to sleep and deceive you, that I am dressing in the gilded clothes of an age that is past the black demon that torments you. Let me still have your confidence: I have only one ambition,--it is your own greatest joy. I could not lead you astray without shame and without deceiving myself; for are you not indeed myself, O my friend? II