Villiers regarded him wistfully.

“Alwyn, my dear fellow, do you want to be the Sisyphus of this era?—­You will find the stone of Evil heavy to roll upward,—­ moreover, it will exhibit the usually painful tendency to slip back and crush you!”

“How can it crush me?” asked his friend with a serene smile.  “My heart cannot be broken, or my spirit dismayed, and as for my body, it can but die,—­and death comes to every man!  I would rather try to roll up the stone, however fruitless the task, than sit idly looking at it, and doing nothing!”

“Your heart cannot be broken?  Ah! how do you know” ... and Villiers shook his head dubiously—­“What man can be certain of his own destiny?”

“Everyman can will his own destiny,”—­returned Alwyn firmly.  “That is just it.  But here we are getting into a serious discussion, and I had determined to talk no more on such subjects till to-night.”

“And to-night we are to go in for them thoroughly, I suppose?”—­ inquired Villiers with a quick look.  “To-night, my dear boy, you will have to decide whether you consider me mad or sane,” said Alwyn cheerfully—­“I shall tell you truths that seem like romances—­and facts that sound like fables,—­moreover, I shall have to assure you that miracles do happen whenever God chooses, in spite of all human denial of their possibility.  Do you remember Whately’s clever skit—­’Historical Doubts of Napoleon I’?—­showing how easy it was to logically prove that Napoleon never existed?—­ That ought to enlighten people as to the very precise and convincing manner in which we can, if we choose, argue away what is nevertheless an incontestible fact.  Thus do skeptics deny miracles—­yet we live surrounded by miracles! ... do you think me crazed for saying so?”

Villiers laughed.  “Crazed!  No, indeed!—­I wish every man in London were as sane and sound as you are!”

“Ah, but wait till to-night!” and Alwyn’s eyes sparkled mirthfully—­“Perhaps you will alter your opinion then!”—­Here, collecting his scattered manuscripts, he put them by—­“I’ve done work for the present,”—­he said—­“Shall we go for a walk somewhere?”

Villiers assented, and they left the room together.

CHAPTER XXXV.

One against many.

The beautiful and socially popular Duchess de la Santoisie sat her at brilliantly appointed dinner-table, and flashed her bright eyes comprehensively round the board,—­her party was complete.  She had secured twenty of the best-known men and women of letters in all London, and yet she was not quite satisfied with the result attained.  One dark, splendid face on her right hand had taken the lustre out of all the rest,—­one quiet, courteous smile on a mouth haughty, yet sweet, had somehow or other made the entertainment of little worth in her own estimation.  She was very fair to look upon,