'A gas-lamp? Oh, come, that is quite impossible. I mean that star, there in the sky.'
'It is only a gas-lamp all the same,' he said. 'You will see in a moment. It is on the brow of the road—probably the first gas-lamp on the way into the town. Against that clear sky, with its tender tones, the light in the street-lamp shows not orange or red, but a sparkling white.'
'Come nearer and let us see,' she said, impatiently. 'Come, by all means.'
So they went nearer, and the illusion was gone. It was, as he had said, a common street-lamp.
'I am quite disappointed,' Helena said, after a moment of silence.
'But why?' he asked. 'Might not one extract a moral out of that?'
'Oh, I don't see how you could.'
'Well, let us try. The common street-lamp got its opportunity, and it shone like a star. Isn't there a good deal of human life very like that?'
'But what is the good of showing for once like a star when it is not a star?'
'Ah, well, I am afraid a good deal of life's ambition would be baffled if everyone were to take that view of things.'