"But all the world is open before such a young man as you," said Mr. Ringgan.
"A large world," said Mr. Carleton, with his former mixture of expression, "but there isn't much in it."
"Politics?" said Mr. Ringgan.
"It is to lose oneself in a seething-pot, where the scum is the most apparent thing."
"But there is society?" said Rossitur.
"Nothing better or more noble than the succession of motes that flit through a sunbeam into oblivion."
"Well, why not, then, sit down quietly on one's estates and enjoy them, one who has enough?"
"And be a worm in the heart of an apple."
"Well, then," said Rossitur, laughing, though not knowing exactly how far he might venture, "there is nothing left for you, as I don't suppose you would take to any of the learned professions, but to strike out some new path for yourself hit upon some grand invention for benefiting the human race and distinguishing your own name at once."
But while he spoke, his companion's face had gone back to its usual look of imperturbable coolness; the dark eye was even haughtily unmoved, till it met Fleda's inquiring and somewhat anxious glance. He smiled.