“My prodigal daughter,” he said, “is ever so much dearer to me now than before!”
To have kept complete silence about the rupture which had taken place, would not have satisfied his kindness.
“You must not fancy I am quite disinterested in wishing you back again,” he said. “I have something special in view.”
“What may that be, Professor?”
“I have just received permission from the Russian Government to publish a scientific journal, and it has confirmed me in my status as editor. As my secretary, you would be useful, and I ask you to accept the position.”
“I should do so with pleasure, but my occupation prevents me.”
“Your office? You will give it up: it is no fitting situation for you. I have been thinking it over: this is just what will serve most to bring your abilities into full play. You will have to do the ‘Intelligence’ columns, make summaries, and write translations—at first. And it will be necessary to read very, very much. I have by me a great number of new and highly interesting works, which I must show you.—Well, what do you say?”
I said yes.
During our conversation, I was under the same impression that I had, when I went to see Mme. Smilowicz. I was no longer ‘up-to-date,’ for I had long given up reading.—Obojanski talked at length to me about various changes that had latterly taken place in his field of science.
Those last years had been lost for me. My abandonment of the “Ice-plains” had cost me dear. I had learned nothing by having become acquainted with Life; I was not capable of forming any synthetic views about it. The more we know of it, the less is it possible to comprehend it in any systematized generalization.—Everything in Life contradicts everything else: Science is by far more consistent.