It would be difficult to paint a more faithful portrait. Like the peasant in the story, the man of effrontery is always wandering far from the common road, the tranquil peace of which he despises.
He delights in crossing land that he knows to be forbidden to him, seeks to force open gates that are closed at his approach, and, if he can not overcome the opposition of the porter, watches for the moment when an open window will permit him entrance into a house where he will be coldly, if not angrily, received.
What is the result of this?
Nothing favorable to his plans, one may be sure. People point him out. They fly from him, and were he the bearer of the most advantageous proposition, refuse to put any faith in his assertions as soon as they get to know him in the least.
Effrontery may sometimes impose upon the innocent. But it is only a momentary deception, quickly dissipated the moment that time is given to estimate the emptiness of its claims.
There is another variety of effrontery that is comparable to the form of courage exhibited by the timorous who sing in a loud voice in order to lessen their terror and imagine that by so doing they give the illusion of bravery.
People of this sort talk very loudly, often contradicting themselves, and pass judgment upon everything, dismissing the most difficult questions with only a passing thought, but remain silent and are put completely out of countenance as soon as one insists upon their listening to reason, or when--in familiar language--they "meet their match."
The man of effrontery is a passionate devotee of bluff, and not only of that variety of which Jonathan Dick has said:
"It is a security discounted in advance."
A little further on he adds: