“Socrates?—­Socrates was as clear as a drop of morning dew, my dear fellow,” replied Heliobas.  “There was nothing puzzling about him.  His remarks were all true and trenchant—­hitting smartly home to the heart like daggers plunged down to the hilt.  That was the worst of him—­he was too clear—­too honest—­too disdainful of opinions.  Society does not love such men.  What do I mean, you ask, by accepting everything as it comes, and trying to find out the reason of its coming?  Why, I mean what I say.  Each circumstance that happens to each one of us brings its own special lesson and meaning —­forms a link or part of a link in the chain of our existence.  It seems nothing to you that you walk down a particular street at a particular hour, and yet that slight action of yours may lead to a result you wot not of.  ‘Accept the hint of each new experience,’ says the American imitator of Plato—­Emerson.  If this advice is faithfully followed, we all have enough to occupy us busily from the cradle to the grave.”

Prince Ivan looked at Zara, who sat quietly thoughtful, only lifting her bright eyes now and then to glance at her brother as he spoke.

“I tell you,” he said, with sudden moroseness, “there are some hints that we cannot accept—­some circumstances that we must not yield to.  Why should a man, for instance, be subjected to an undeserved and bitter disappointment?”

“Because,” said Zara, joining in the conversation for the first time, “he has most likely desired what he is not fated to obtain.”

The Prince bit his lips, and gave a forced laugh.

“I know, madame, you are against me in all our arguments,” he observed, with some bitterness in his tone.  “As Casimir suggests, I am a bad philosopher.  I do not pretend to more than the ordinary attributes of an ordinary man; it is fortunate, if I may be permitted to say so, that the rest of the word’s inhabitants are very like me, for if everyone reached to the sublime heights of science and knowledge that you and your brother have attained—–­”

“The course of human destiny would run out, and Paradise would be an established fact,” laughed Heliobas.  “Come, Ivan!  You are a true Epicurean.  Have some more wine, and a truce to discussions for the present.”  And, beckoning to one of the servants, he ordered the Prince’s glass to be refilled.

Dessert was now served, and luscious fruits in profusion, including peaches, bananas, plantains, green figs, melons, pine-apples, and magnificent grapes, were offered for our choice.  As I made a selection for my own plate, I became aware of something soft rubbing itself gently against my dress; and looking down, I saw the noble head and dark intelligent eyes of my old acquaintance Leo, whom I had last met at Cannes.  I gave an exclamation of pleasure, and the dog, encouraged, stood up and laid a caressing paw on my arm.

“You know Leo, of course,” said Heliobas, turning to me.  “He went to see Raffaello while you were at Cannes.  He is a wonderful animal—­ more valuable to me than his weight in gold.”