"A life of insignificance, is a life that does not signify anything," Mr. Marshall added.
"Most people's lives signify something," I said, stupidly, my thoughts running on far ahead of my words.
"Yes, to somebody in the corner at home," Mr. Marshall said, "whose affection cannot make a true estimate. But do most people's lives signify anything, except to some fond judgment of that sort?"
"Who is estimating you, in a corner at home?" said Mr. de
Saussure.
"Nobody - and that you know. Nobody, except my old mammy."
"You are a lucky fellow, Hugh. Free as air! Now I have five or six dear appraisers at my home; who are of opinion that an epaulette and a commission would add to my value; or rather, to do them justice, they are very desirous to have my life - or my death - tell for something, in the struggle which occupies all their, thoughts at present. I do not mean that they have no choice, but, one or the other. And so am I desirous; but - Lucerne is so very captivating! And really, as, I said, one signifies so little."
"One is half of two," said Ransom - "and a hundredth part of a hundred."
"I should like, I think, to be half of two," said De Saussure, comically. "I don't care about being the hundredth part of anything."
"But you are going when I go?" said Ransom.
"Mrs. Randolph says so; and I suppose she will command me.
What does Miss Randolph say?"