"No, I dare say not. But it is. And I do the same. I did not get her whom I should have had; but I am not altogether without joys for all that. Only I stir up the mud in them. Every time I stir up the mud. Then I can't be beaten by the disappointment afterwards. There you see Victoria. She drank with me just now. I have been her tutor; now she's to be married and I'm glad about it, it gives me a purely personal sense of happiness as if she was my own daughter. Now perhaps I shall be tutor to her children. Oh yes, there are really a number of joys left in life. But what you said about compassion and woman and the man brought low—the more I think about it, the more you are right. Yes, God knows you are.... Excuse me a second."
He got up, seized his glass and went along to Victoria. He was already a little unsteady on his legs and stooped a great deal.
More speeches were made, the Lieutenant made one, the neighbour Laird gave the toast of the ladies, the Lady of the house. Suddenly the young man with the diamond studs got up and spoke Johannes' name. He had received permission for what he was doing, he wanted to hail the young poet in the name of the young. His words were most friendly, a kindly expression of thanks from contemporaries, full of appreciation and admiration.
Johannes hardly believed his own ears. He whispered to the Tutor:
"Is it me he's talking about?"
The Tutor answered:
"Yes. He's forestalled me. I was going to do it myself; Victoria asked me to some hours ago."
"Who asked you to, did you say?"
The Tutor stared at him.
"Nobody," he said.