"Perhaps I do!" he said carelessly--"This much you may believe of me--that I am no worse than most men! Now to return to the subject of your literary career,--you have written a book, you say,--well, publish it and see the result--if you only make one 'hit' that is something. And there are ways of arranging that the 'hit' shall be made. What is your story about? I hope it is improper?" "It certainly is not;"--I replied warmly--"It is a romance dealing with the noblest forms of life and highest ambitions;--I wrote it with the intention of elevating and purifying the thoughts of my readers, and wished if I could, to comfort those who had suffered loss or sorrow--" Rimânez smiled compassionately. "Ah, it won't do!" he interrupted--"I assure you it won't;--it doesn't fit the age. It might go down, possibly, if you could give a 'first-night' of it as it were to the critics, like one of my most intimate friends, Henry Irving,--a 'first-night' combined with an excellent supper and any amount of good drinks going. Otherwise it's no use. If it is to succeed by itself, it must not attempt to be literature,--it must simply be indecent. As indecent as you can make it without offending advanced women,--that is giving you a good wide margin. Put in as much as you can about sexual matters and the bearing of children,--in brief, discourse of men and women simply as cattle who exist merely for breeding purposes, and your success will be enormous. There's not a critic living who won't applaud you,--there's not a school-girl of fifteen who will not gloat over your pages in the silence of her virginal bedroom!" Such a flash of withering derision darted from his eyes as startled me,--I could find no words to answer him for the moment, and he went on-- "What put it into your head, my dear Tempest, to write a book dealing with, as you say, 'the noblest forms of life'? There are no noble forms of life left on this planet,--it is all low and commercial,--man is a pigmy, and his aims are pigmy like himself. For noble forms of life seek other worlds!--there _are_ others. Then again, people don't want their thoughts raised or purified in the novels they read for amusement--they go to church for that, and get very bored during the process. And why should you wish to comfort folks who, out of their own sheer stupidity generally, get into trouble? They wouldn't comfort _you_,--they would not give you sixpence to save you from starvation. My good fellow, leave your quixotism behind you with your poverty. Live your life to yourself,--if you do anything for others they will only treat you with the blackest ingratitude,--so take my advice, and don't sacrifice your own personal interests for any consideration whatever." He rose from the table as he spoke and stood with his back to the bright fire, smoking his cigar tranquilly,--and I gazed at his handsome figure and face with just the faintest thrill of pained doubt darkening my admiration.