Meanwhile Norem continued his impossible tirade. So it was charged that
the people as a whole was corrupt, that its men and women were debased
because they honoured literature and art. "Ho! you leave art alone, my
good man, and don't you bother about that! Men and women corrupt!--"
Coldevin seized this chance remark by the hair and replied. He did not
address Norem; he looked away from him. He spoke about something that
evidently was vitally important in his eyes. He addressed himself to
nobody in particular, and yet his words were meant for some one. It was
hardly correct to say that men and women were corrupt; they had simply
reached a certain degree of hollowness; they had degenerated and grown
small. Shallow soil, anaemic soil, without growth, without fertility! The
women carried on their surface existence. They were not tired of life, but
they did not venture much either. How could they put up any stakes? They
had none to put up. They darted around like blue, heatless flames; they
nibbled at everything, joys and sorrows, and they did not realise that
they had grown insignificant. Their ambitions did not soar; their hearts
did not suffer greatly; they beat quite regularly, but they did not swell
more for one thing than for another, more for one person than for another.
Pages:
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291