“Fifty pounds!” cried Jimmie, in consternation.  “Why that is only two hundred and fifty dollars of our money!”

“I leave it to you to judge for yourselves,” said Doctor Nordau again.

We said nothing, for as Jimmie said after we left, there was really nothing to say.

But evidently our consternation touched him, for he broke out into a big German laugh, saying: 

“Don’t take it so deeply to heart!  You are too sensitive.  Do you take the criticisms of your books so deeply to heart as you take a criticism of your countrymen?  Don’t do it!  Remember, there are few critics worth reading.”

“I never read them while they are fresh,” I admitted.  “I keep them until their heat has had time to cool.  Then if they are favourable I say, ’This is just so much extra pleasure that, as it is all over.  I had no right to expect.’  And if they are unfavourable I think, ’What difference does it make?  It was published weeks ago and everybody has forgotten it by this time!’”

“You have the right spirit,” he said.  “Where would I be if I had taken to heart the criticisms of the degenerates on ‘Degeneration?’ I sit back and laugh at them for holding a hand mirror up to their faces and unconsciously crying out ‘I see a fool!’ To understand great truths,—­and great truths are seldom popular,—­one must bring a willing mind.  Yet how often it is that the very sick one wishes most to help are the ones who refuse, either from conceit or stupidity, to believe and be healed.  Remember this:  no one can get out of a book more than he brings to it.  Readers of books seldom realise that by their written or spoken criticisms they are displaying themselves in all their weaknesses, all their vanities, all their strength for their hearers to make use of as they will.”

“I shouldn’t think anything ever would disturb you,” said Jimmie, regarding Doctor Nordau’s gigantic strength admiringly.

Doctor Nordau laughed.

“It is the little things of this life, my friend, which often disturb a mental balance which is always poised to receive great shocks.  The gnat-bites and mosquito buzzings are sometimes harder to bear than an operation with a surgeon’s knife.”

I looked triumphantly at Jimmie as Doctor Nordau said that, for Jimmie never has got over it that I once dragged the whole party off a train and made them wait until the next one, because the wheels of our railway carriage squeaked.  But Jimmie’s mind is open to persuasion, especially from one whose opinions he admires as he admires Max Nordau’s, for he looked at me with more tolerance, as he said: 

“It is the nervous organisation, I suppose.  She can bear neuralgia for days at a time which would drive me crazy in an hour, but I’ve seen her burst into tears because a door slammed.”

“Exactly so!” said Doctor Nordau.  “I understand perfectly.”

“Now, I never hear such noises,” pursued Jimmie.  “But I suppose there must be some difference between you both, who can write books, and me, who can’t even write a letter without dictating it!”