“Dear Madame!” interrupted Diana, quickly—“do not for a moment entertain such an idea! It belongs to those foolish times when the Church was afraid to know the truth and tortured people for telling it! What offence can there be in exerting to the utmost, the intelligent faculties God has given us, and in studying to find out the wonderful advantages and benefits which may be possessed by those who cultivate reason and knowledge! I think it is a far greater offence against God, to wilfully remain in ignorance of His goodness to us all!”
“Perhaps!”—and the old lady sighed—then smiled. “I’m afraid I am one of those who ‘darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge!’ But, after all, the great thing for me is that I see you well and happy—and greatest marvel of all—growing younger every day! You see that for yourself, don’t you?—and you feel it?”
“Yes.” And, as she spoke, a strange, far-away look came into Diana’s eyes. “But—there is one thing I wish I could explain, even to myself! I feel well, happy, keenly alive to all I see and hear,—and yet—there is an odd sensation back of it all!—a feeling that I have no feeling!”
“My dear Diana!” And Madame Dimitrius’s pale blue eyes opened a little wider. “What a strange thing to say! You are full of feeling!”
Diana shook her head decisively.
“No, I’m not! It’s all put on! It is, really! That is, so far as human beings and human events are concerned. I feel nothing whatever about them! The only ‘feeling’ I have is a sort of suppressed ecstasy of delight in beauty—the beauty of the skies, the effects of sunlight on the hills and plains, the loveliness of a flower or a bit of exquisite natural scenery—but I have somehow lost the sense of all association with humanity!”
“But—my dear girl!——” began Madame, in perplexity.
Diana laughed.
“Ah, now you call me a ‘girl,’ too!” she exclaimed, merrily. “Just as they all do here in this hotel! I’m not a girl at all—I’m a woman of ‘mature years,’ but nobody would believe it! Even Dr. Féodor himself is getting puzzled—for he addressed me as ‘dear child’ this very morning!” She laughed again—her pretty laugh,—which was like a musical cadence.
“Yes, dear Madame!—it’s a fact!—with my renewal of youth I’m developing youth’s happy-go-lucky indifference to emotions! People,—the creatures that walk about on two legs and eat and talk—have absolutely no interest for me!—unless they do something absurd which they imagine to be clever—and that makes me laugh,—sometimes,—not always! Even your wonderful son, with his amazing powers and his magnetic eyes which used to send a thrill right down my spine, fails to move me now to any concern as to my ultimate fate in his hands. I know that he is, so far, succeeding in his experiment; but what the final result may be I don’t know—and—I don’t care!”