“You are frank,” said Menelaus. “I’m glad you told me—I suppose I’m glad. I suspect it’s not the younger generation you are talking of. Well! So that’s what you mean by love of life?”

“No, that is love,” said Helen.

“Since we’re on the subject, I might as well hear the rest of it,” said Menelaus. “Can you give me a brief definition of whatever it is the young people lack?”

“I meant simply, they don’t love life as they should,” said Helen. “We usually pretend they do, because it would seem natural to delight in the world before us when we are young. But they take it very cautiously and seriously; haven’t you noticed they see its faults first of all, and are highly critical? Love of life doesn’t just happen to us, like that other love—I suppose it’s an art, to be learned by practice, after a great deal of time. When we have learned it at last, we have probably ceased to be young. Perhaps these children can’t be expected to love what they know so little about. They are afraid of life, afraid they won’t succeed, or won’t get married, or something. When their fears are removed they are so relieved that they settle down and never take a risk again. That’s the only way I can explain most of the people I’ve met.”

“But why do you explain Hermione that way? So far as I can see she’ll love life if she gets a chance; till now, you’ll admit, she’s had more to worry about than young people ought to have. Even at that, though I don’t pretend to be a judge of these things, I’ve thought she was getting on pretty well. If she isn’t, probably Orestes will teach her—I understand he’s an enterprising young man, with the modern ideas.”

“Oh, Menelaus, you don’t get the point at all! Orestes is incurably serious and dangerously resolute, with no experience, with no gift for living, with absolutely no sense of humour. Every one says that of him. Perhaps you think it a favourable report. He’s the kind of young person who sees the flaws in life before he sees life, and is too conscientious not to remedy at once every flaw he sees. He will do his duty at any cost to others; he’ll carry out what he thinks is the will of heaven even if he has to kill somebody. Of course he would commit the murder with the finest feelings, very reluctantly. I know that type. He’s not the man to teach Hermione—he’s unteachable himself. Can’t you imagine what a wretched time he’s going to have—and any woman who marries him? Menelaus, do help me to save Hermione!”

“It’s too bad we can’t point to a shining example in the neighbourhood for her guidance—unless she could be persuaded to copy your career.”

“No, I don’t want her to copy my career,” said Helen. “I want her to have a far more brilliant one, a happier one, with more love in it. She doesn’t admire me, and I don’t blame her. I wish she had more of Adraste’s temperament. There’s a child who has the love of life. I’ve trained her carefully.”