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"I don't believe you could ever be really cruel, Monsieur Emile."
"Why not?"
"I think you are too intelligent."
"Why should that prevent me?"
"Isn't cruelty stupid, unimaginative?"
"Often. But it can be brilliant, artful, intellectual, full of
imagination. It can be religious. It can be passionate. It can be
splendid. It can be almost everything."
"Splendid!"
"Like Napoleon's cruelty to France. But why should I educate you in
abominable knowledge?"
"Oh," said the girl, thrusting forward her firm little chin, "I have
no faith in mere ignorance."
"Yet it does a great deal for those who are not ignorant."
"How?"
"It shows them how pretty, how beautiful even, sometimes, was the
place from which they started for their journey through the world."
Vere was silent for a moment. The sparkle of fun had died out of her
eyes, which had become dark with the steadier fires of imagination.
The strands of her thick hair, falling down on each side of her oval
face, gave to it a whimsically mediaeval look, suggestive of legend.


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