The Cardinal's Snuff Box

"Wait a bit," it whispered in his ear. "You were there only

yesterday. It can't fail, therefore, to seem extraordinary,

your calling again to-day. You must be prepared with an

excuse, an explanation. But suppose, when you arrive, suppose

that (like the lady in the ballad) she greets you with 'a

glance of cold surprise'--what then, my dear? Why, then, it's

obvious, you can't allege the true explanation--can you? If

she greets you with a glance of cold, surprise, you 'll have

your answer, as it were, before the fact you 'll know that there's

no manner of hope for you; and the time for passionate avowals

will automatically defer itself. But then--? How will you

justify your visit? What face can you put on?"

"H'm," assented Peter, "there's something in that."

"There's a great deal in that," said the demon. "You must have

an excuse up your sleeve, a pretext. A true excuse is a fine

thing in its way; but when you come to a serious emergency, an

alternative false excuse is indispensable."

"H'm," said Peter.

However, if there are demons in the atmosphere, there are gods

in the machine--(Paraschkine even goes so far as to maintain

that

there are more gods in the machine than have ever been taken

from it.") While Peter stood still, pondering the demon's

really rather cogent intervention, his eye was caught by

something that glittered in the grass at the roadside.

"The Cardinal's snuff-box," he exclaimed, picking it up.

The Cardinal had dropped his snuff-box. Here was an excuse,

and to spare. Peter rang the bell.