Edouard listened to the stranger with no less surprise than interest. His speech proved that he, Edouard, was not in error in thinking that that man had not always been in such wretched plight. Apparently regardless of the person who stood beside him, the stranger took from his pocket a pipe and a flint, and as he struck the flint to obtain a light, continued his reflections:
"What a curious thing life is! When one is rich, happy, highly esteemed, one exposes it recklessly and plays with danger; one makes it a point of honor to defy perils. To be sure, we generally do it solely from self-esteem; then comes adversity, poverty, old age, and then we generally begin to tremble for our lives. We act like fools! For my own part, I have taken the wise course: I worry about nothing; I hold myself superior to everything. I still have a few coins in my pocket, and when they are gone, we will see. It won’t be the first time that I have found myself in an embarrassing position, and there is something piquant in the reflections to which such a condition gives rise. Moreover, the Auvergnats are good fellows; they will always give me a crust of bread, and with that I can walk where I please from morning till night. That is something. Ah! If we were at Athens or Sparta, people might find something to criticise in my mode of life, I know. By Solon’s law it was justifiable to denounce every citizen who had no occupation. But other times, other manners!"
The stranger, having lighted his pipe, put it in his mouth, and turned toward Edouard with a mocking laugh; then blew a puff of smoke into his face.
"Monsieur," said Edouard, "it is easy to see from your speech that you have had an education, that you were not born in the lower ranks of society. Misfortunes, which I do not ask to know, must have brought adversity upon you. You seem to hold a low opinion of your fellowmen, undoubtedly because you have reasons to complain of them; but misfortune embitters us and sometimes makes us unjust; so far as I am concerned, I sincerely desire to be of use to you, and to extricate you from a situation which I see you ought not to occupy."
"Which I ought not to occupy! Why, you see that I ought, since I am in it! But have I asked you for anything? Who told you that I am not contented as I am?"
"A man may become hardened to misfortune, to poverty; but whatever strength of mind he may have, it is impossible to banish entirely from his thoughts the memory of a happier time."
The stranger stretched himself out carelessly on the turf and looked at Edouard.
"Ah! you believe that, do you? How do you know that I do not deserve the misfortune of which you suppose me to be the victim; that it is not my misbehavior, my passions, which have put me where I am?"
"If that were so, I should see in it simply an additional motive for trying to oblige you. A man must be much more unhappy when his unhappiness is due to his own fault."
"Do you think that I follow the creed of Zoroaster, that I regale myself by reading the Sadder, which demands that a man should make a rigid examination of his conscience at the end of every day? No, indeed; for a long time my conscience and myself have been the best friends in the world, and for a very good reason, namely, that we never speak to each other.—Have you any snuff about you?"