Once, Joan, overhearing him enlarging to an audience composed of Archie, Emily Carmichael, and a particularly frivolous young divorcée of their acquaintance, on the Ostwald formula for happiness, felt called upon to come to the rescue; and received for once in her life a decided snubbing from her husband.
"Don't interrupt, Joan, please!—Mr. Nikolai's telling us something mighty interesting. Go on, sir—G=E^2+W^2—I didn't quite get you about the Hüttengluck and the Heldengluck?"
"G," explained Nikolai, "is as you know Gluck (happiness). E stands for Energetics; meaning activity, health, ambition, etc. W stands for Widerwillig, one of those comprehensive words one finds only in the German, meaning everything that runs counter to happiness, all the by-products of activity—opposition, fatigue, trouble, etc. There are philosophers who hold that by reducing E (the activities of life) one also reduces W (the unpleasantnesses), thereby attaining happiness. Renunciation, you understand;—the simple life, such as that of Diogenes, who threw away his one utensil, the cup, when he saw a man drinking satisfactorily out of his hand.
"But the danger is that in generally reducing the formula, G also is reduced, and may even become minus. At its best the happiness attained in this way is what Ostwald calls Hüttengluck (hut-happiness). He advocates instead the Heldengluck (hero-happiness). Square, he says, both your Energetics and your Widerwillig, and the result will be a doubled happiness, robust, vital. In other words, live to the top of your powers, suffer to the top of your powers; and you will be able to enjoy to the top of your powers."
"Sure!" said Archie. "I see that. Me for Ostwald!"
The little divorcée remarked in an aside to Joan, "He certainly does make you think, this high-brow beau of yours! But I like to think, sometimes."
It taught Joan a lesson. She recalled a sentence of Trevelyan's: "A man who has too much sense to overrate his own qualities will often make amends to his self-esteem by underrating his neighbor's."
She realized that she might have been making such a mistake herself. If, as she had complained, there was no real talk to be had in society, were not she and people like her responsible?
If a scholar such as Stefan Nikolai found it worth while to give of his best to simpler comprehensions, was it not pretentious and even ridiculous of a Joan Blair to "talk down" to them, tactfully adapting herself to their limitations while concealing yawns behind her hand? She had the grace to blush for herself....
The companionship of Joan and Nikolai was, as Louisville interestedly suspected, not an entirely intellectual one, however. Like all people who work hard with their heads (and Nikolai spent many hours at his desk daily, even in holiday seasons), he knew the full value of play, and had always been to Joan the most delightful of play-fellows. In her childhood he had often borrowed her for what they called "expeditions"—visits to circuses, zoölogical gardens, museums; boat-journeys, picnics—always to the surprise of Major Darcy, who regarded a child as a desirable addition to any family, something to be petted, and instructed, and even romped with in moderation, but by no means to be made a companion of.