“On Wednesday, I think. I am going to be merciful, you see, and bring him back. His crossing to Ireland simply meant more expense. The dock wall or the river would have answered any day. But that has nothing to do with my present quest. I have come to ask you for the last time, Will you go or stay?”
Genius rose, and round him shone his own warm, dazzling lights all intermingled.
“Had you been kinder I might have acted differently. But you forget, or reason is at fault. They say on this earth that such as I are born in pain; rightly or wrongly I would not presume to say. But as it is this suffering simply draws the sufferer nearer to me.”
“And farther off from God.”
“As you will. That is Virginius’s duty, none of mine. Why do you laugh?”
“You speak so innocently, so childishly, you make me laugh.”
“I understand you,” answered Genius, with some slight contempt. “It is useless bandying words with you.”
“On the contrary, I laugh from the very bottom of my heart—or what in me corresponds to that function in the human breast. I laugh at a delicate joke, the flavour of which even you cannot appreciate.”
“Enjoy it whilst you may—at a future time must come the reckoning day.”