“You say, then, that we have to accept in practice what we deny in theory?”

“Yes, if you like.  I say, at least, that the consequence of the attempt to bring our theoretical denial to bear upon our practice would be to reduce our life to a moral chaos, by denying the only principle of choice which we find ourselves actually able to accept.  In your case and mine, as it seems, it is our opinion about Good that engenders order among our passions and desires; and without it we should sink back to be mere creatures of blind impulse, such as perhaps in fact, many men really are.”

“What!” cried Audubon, interrupting in a tone of half indignant protest, “do you mean to say that it is some idea about Good that brings order into a man’s life?  All I can say is that, for my part, I never once think, from one year’s end to another, of anything so abstract and remote.  I simply go on, day after day, plodding the appointed round, without reflexion, without reason, simply because I have to.  There’s order in my life, heaven knows! but it has nothing to do with ideas about Good.  And altogether,” he ejaculated, in a kind of passion, “it’s a preposterous thing to tell me that I believe in Good, merely because I lead a life like a mill-horse!  That would be an admirable reason for believing in Bad—­but Good!”

He lapsed again into silence; and I was half unwilling to press him further, knowing that he felt our dialectics to be a kind of insult to his concrete woes.  However, it seemed to be necessary for the sake of the argument to give some answer, so I began:—­

“But if you don’t like the life of a mill-horse, why do you lead it?”

“Why? because I have to!” he replied; “you don’t suppose I would do it if I could help it?”

“No,” I said, “but why can’t you help it?”

“Because,” he said, “I have to earn my living.”

“Then is it a good thing to earn your living?”

“No, but it’s a necessary thing.”

“Necessary, why?”

“Because one must live.”

“Then it is a good thing to live?”

“No, it’s a very bad one.”

“Why do you live, then?”

“Because I can’t help it.”

“But it is always possible to stop living.”

“No, it isn’t”

“But why not?”

“Because there are other people dependent on me, and I don’t choose to be such a mean skunk as to run away myself and leave other people here to suffer.  Besides, it’s a sort of point of honour.  As I’m here, I’m going to play the game.  All I say is that the game is not worth the playing; and you will never persuade me into the belief that it Is.”