“Really?” said the old man, smiling.

“But, at times, I can’t help thinking that I am wrong in feeling so about it, you know. Sincerity is more important than elocution, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.”

“I want to explain all to you⁠—everything⁠—everything! I know you think me Utopian, don’t you⁠—an idealist? Oh, no! I’m not, indeed⁠—my ideas are all so simple. You don’t believe me? You are smiling. Do you know, I am sometimes very wicked⁠—for I lose my faith? This evening as I came here, I thought to myself, ‘What shall I talk about? How am I to begin, so that they may be able to understand partially, at all events?’ How afraid I was⁠—dreadfully afraid! And yet, how could I be afraid⁠—was it not shameful of me? Was I afraid of finding a bottomless abyss of empty selfishness? Ah! that’s why I am so happy at this moment, because I find there is no bottomless abyss at all⁠—but good, healthy material, full of life.