'Well, they were naturally profoundly pessimistic, both of them. You are, you know, if your diet——'
'Oh yes, yes indeed,' agreed Mrs. Harvey-Browne, with the conviction of one who has been through it.
'They were absolutely sick of things. They loathed everything anybody said or did. And they were disciples of Nietzsche.'
'Was that the cause or the effect of the excessive beer-drinking?' asked Brosy.
'Oh, I can't endure Nietzsche,' cried Mrs. Harvey-Browne. 'Don't ever read him, Brosy. I saw some things he says about women—he is too dreadful.'
'And one said to the other over their despairing potations: "Only those can be considered truly happy who are destined never to be born."'
'There!' cried Mrs. Harvey-Browne. 'That is Nietzsche all over—rank pessimism.'
'I never heard ranker,' said Brosy smiling.
'And the other thought it over, and then said drearily: "But to how few falls that happy lot."'
There was a pause. Brosy was laughing behind his teacup. His mother, on the contrary, looked solemn, and gazed at me thoughtfully. 'There is a great want of simple faith about Germans,' she said. 'The bishop thinks it so sad. A story like that would quite upset him. He has been very anxious lest Brosy—our only child, dear Frau X., so you may imagine how precious—should become tainted by it.'