“But you will not fail——”
“In every science, for one success there are a million failures,” he replied. “And dare I complain if I am one of the million? I have been fortunate in finding a subject who is obedient, tractable, and eminently courageous,—sometimes, indeed, I have wondered whether her courage will not prove too much for me! She is a woman of character—of strong, yet firmly suppressed emotions; and she has entered a characterless household——”
“Characterless?” repeated Madame Dimitrius, in surprised tones—“Can you say that?”
“Of course! What play of character can be expected from people who are as self-centred as you and I? You have no thought in life beyond me, your erratic and unworthy son,—I have no thought beyond my scientific work and its results. Neither you nor I take interest in human affairs or human beings generally; any writer of books venturing to describe us, would find nothing to relate, because we form no associations. We let people come and go,—but we do not really care for them, and if they stayed away altogether we should not mind.”
“Well, as far as that goes, Diana tells me she is equally indifferent,” said Madame.
“Yes,—but her indifference is hardly of her own making,” he replied. “She is not aware of its source or meaning. Her actual character and temperament are deep as a deep lake over which a sudden and unusual frost has spread a temporary coating of ice. She has emotions and passions—rigidly and closely controlled. She cares for things, without knowing she cares. And at any moment she may learn her own power——”
“A power which you have given her,” interposed his mother.
“True,—and it may be a case of putting a sword into the hand that is eager to kill,” he answered. “However, her strength will be of the psychological type, which gross material men laugh at. I do not laugh, knowing the terrific force hidden within each one of us, behind the veil of flesh and blood. Heavens!—what a world it would be if we all lived according to the spirit rather than the body!—if we all ceased to be coarse feeders and animal sensualists, and chose only the purest necessaries for existence in health and sanity!—it would be Paradise regained!”
“If your experiment succeeds as you hope,” said Madame Dimitrius, “what will happen then? You will let Diana go?”
“She will go whether I ‘let’ her or not,” he replied. “She will have done all I require of her.”