“Don’t be in such a hurry, I beg. By disinterested I mean gratuitous. Also that evil actions—what are commonly called evil—may be just as gratuitous as good ones.”
“In that case, why commit them?”
“Exactly! Out of sheer wantonness—or from love of sport. My contention is that the most disinterested souls are not necessarily the best—in the Catholic meaning of the word; on the contrary, from the Catholic point of view, the best-trained soul is the one that keeps the strictest accounts.”
“The one that ever feels its debt towards God,” added Fleurissoire seraphically, in an attempt to keep up to the mark.
Julius was obviously irritated by his brother-in-law’s interruptions; he thought them ludicrous.
“A contempt for what may serve is no doubt the stamp of a certain aristocracy of nature.... So once a man has shaken free from orthodoxy, from self-indulgence and from calculation, we may grant that his soul may keep no accounts at all?”
“No! No! Never! We may not grant it!” exclaimed Fleurissoire vehemently; then suddenly frightened by the sound of his own voice, he bent towards Baraglioul and whispered:
“Let’s speak lower; we shall be overheard.”
“Pooh! How could anyone be interested in what we are saying?”
“Oh, my dear Julius, I see you have no conception what the people of this country are like. I’ve spent only four days here, but during those four days the adventures I’ve had have been endless, and of a kind to teach me caution—pretty forcibly too—though it wasn’t in my nature, I swear. I am being tracked!”