“Right,” said Matilda, “is right and wrong is wrong. I always know when I’m doing right and when I’m doing wrong.”
“But you do it all the same?” asked Panoukian.
“Oh, yes.”
“And so does every healthy human being. So much for morality.”
“Don’t you believe that people are always punished?” asked Old Mole.
“Certainly not. There are thousands of men who go scot free, and so sink into self-righteousness that more than half their faculties atrophy, and not even the most disastrous calamity, not even the most terrible spiritual affliction, can penetrate to their minds.”
“That,” said Old Mole, “is the most horrible of punishments and seems to me to show that there is a moral principle in the universe. I find it difficult to understand why moralists are not content to leave it at that, but I have observed that men apply one morality to the actions of others and another to their own. The wicked often prosper, and the righteous are filled with envy and pass judgment, wherein they cease to be righteous.”
“My father,” said Matilda, “was a very bad man, but I was fond of him. My mother was a good woman, and I never could abide her.”
“It is all a matter of affection,” quoth Panoukian with more than his usual emphasis.
“I agree,” muttered Old Mole.