“I don’t want to go back now!”
“Better,” he said cheerfully. “Your mother’ll be worried.”
This did not please Andrée, for she felt that any such dutiful ideas should have come from herself. She was about to say something a little disagreeable, when they caught sight of Claudine coming down the road, always an unmistakable figure by her gait and her bearing. The young man was disconcerted; he had no way of knowing how she had regarded her husband’s hostility, and he was very much in dread of her politeness. It was too dark to see her face; he had to wait for her voice, and to his great relief, it came to him tranquil and friendly. She didn’t say anything remarkable, only “Good evening,” but it implied for him all sorts of astounding and exquisite things. She didn’t mind his taking a walk with the matchless Andrée....
“I hope you’re not converting Andrée,” she said, in just the light and agreeable tone she would have used toward any of the bourgeoisie. “I shouldn’t like her to be a Revolutionary.”
“I’m not, myself,” he answered, seriously. “Did you ever read Dostoievsky, Mrs. Vincelle?”
“Yes,” she answered, secretly amused at his fatal responsiveness.
“Well, I think that fellow’s idea is the best philosophy I’ve ever come across. I believe to some extent in Conscious Evolution, but not so much through the development of a new type of humanity as through the development of compassion. You know. The kingdom of Heaven on earth. I think it’s compassion rather than intelligence that can save the world. If you can learn to pity, you learn to help.”
“Presupposing a little energy,” said Claudine. He was very much aware of her resistance; she did not wish to argue; she had a dread of being serious; she was never, never, to be convinced. Her mind and her opinions were unalterably formed; she was willing enough to listen, to think, but she accepted nothing. It was altogether different from talking to Andrée.
“I think it’s quite possible to be compassionate and selfish at the same time,” she went on.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong in selfishness. It’s vital. It’s a force, not a vice. As long as you want the right things.... Specially for women. An unselfish man might be a hero, but an unselfish woman couldn’t be anything but a victim.... Like a child.... Imagine an unselfish child. Of course it couldn’t survive. What you’ve got to do is to learn to feel for other people so much that it hurts your selfishness—so that you can’t be comfortable unless the rest are too.”