“Yes, when there is a prospect of waking again.”
“But even without that, is life so pleasant that one would incline to renew it? Not I for one.”
Domitia looked up at the fresco of the Quest of Pleasure, and said—“Once I wondered at that picture yonder, and that all pleasure attained should resolve itself into a sense of disappointment. It is quite true that we pursue the butterfly, after we have ceased to value it, but that is because we must pursue something, not that we value that which is attained or to be attained.”
“Ah, lady, we must pursue something. That is in our nature—it is a necessity.”
“It is so; and what else is there to follow after except pleasure?”
“There is knowledge.”
“Knowledge! the froth-whipping of philosophers, the smoke clouds raised by the magicians, the dreams and fancies of astronomers—pshaw! I have no stomach for such knowledge. No! I want nothing but to be left alone, to dream away my remainder of life.”
“No, lady, that would not content you. You must seek. We are made to be seekers, as the bird is made to fly, and the fish to swim.”
“If we do not seek one thing, we seek another, and in every one, find—what the pinched butterfly is—dust.”
“No, mistress, not if we seek the truth. The knowledge of the truth, the Summum Bonum.”