"There are few others," said Molara; "you devote yourself to an idol of your own creation. If you worship beauty, your goddess stands on no surer pedestal than human caprice. Is it not so, Princess?"
The Princess of Tarentum, who was on the President's right, replied that even that foundation was more secure than that on which many beliefs repose.
"You mean that in your own case human caprice has been sufficiently constant? I can well believe it."
"No," she said; "I only mean that the love of beauty is common to all human beings."
"To all living things," corrected Savrola. "It is the love of the plant that produces the flower."
"Ah," said the President, "but, though the love of beauty may be constant, beauty itself may change. Look how everything changes: the beauty of one age is not the beauty of the next; what is admired in Africa is hideous in Europe. It is all a matter of opinion, local opinion. Your goddess, Monsieur, has as many shapes as Proteus."
"I like change," said the Ambassador. "I regard variability of form as a decided advantage in a goddess. I do not care how many shapes I look at, so long as all are beautiful."
"But," interposed Lucile, "you make no distinction between what is beautiful and what we think is beautiful."
"There is none," said the President.
"In Her Excellency's case there would be none," interposed the Ambassador politely.