“No,” he replied, with a darkening brow. “There is only one force in nature, which is wickedness. Man sometimes resists it for fear of the consequences, and the measure of his cowardly resistance is by a curious inversion taken by him to be the measure of his striving towards an ideal.”
Mrs. Fontaine exclaimed warmly; “I must cure you of your pessimism.”
“There is only one remedy.”
“And that?”
“The same as will cure the disease of life.”
“You mean death?”
“Yes,” said Quixtus.
“It’s a remedy; but not the only one.” Her pale cheeks flushed adorably. “In fact, it’s only by a twist of language you can call it a remedy. The only remedy against the malady of life is life itself. The bane is its own antidote. The only cure for loss of illusions is fresh illusions, more illusions, and always illusions.”
“Supposing for argument’s sake you are right—where are they to come from?”
“They form of themselves, like fresh tissue of the flesh, without your volition.”