“But surely you will allow that there is a great badness as well as a great goodness. Look at those Frenchmen; you cannot say their work is good, but it certainly will live, because it is great.”
The minister spoke earnestly. He hated that she should think him narrow; but he had the courage of his opinions.
Mary was silent for a minute, then she looked at him and smiled, saying frankly:
“That is true; but I believe that in all genius there must be something of goodness. We are all going to heaven, and De Maupassant is going too.”
“I would like to think they are all going, but it seems to me some of them have much to answer for. Influence is an awful responsibility. I believe it is the one thing for which we shall have to give the strictest account.”
Mary looked grave. “Do you think that people always realize when they have influence?”
“No, not always; they do not certainly realize the extent of their influence. You, for instance, were you less noble-minded, might do incalculable harm, for you never think about the effect you produce at all.”
“Oh, please don’t be so seriously complimentary,” she exclaimed. “To pose as ‘a good influence’ would be too dreadful! I should feel like seven curates rolled into one. Confess now, though, that you always thought a liking for cigarettes was the sign in a woman of moral obliquity, now, didn’t you?”
Andrew blushed. “I have seen very little, and known few interesting people,” he said modestly; “none from your world.”
“How far we are getting from your sermon on modern literature; that is what we were going to talk about.”