“Yes, Wladyslaw, yes,” Mari said. She was very tired. From the depths of her exhaustion, where she no longer had the strength to follow what he was saying, she remarked that he had undoubtedly been very beautiful.

He answered gravely. “Very. I was so beautiful that people stopped on the street and turned around to look at me and I heard them say, ‘It’s not possible!’”

“That must have made you very happy.”

“Yes. I liked it. I couldn’t help it. But of course all of that took time from my work. I allowed feeling to dominate at the expense of observation. Much too often.” Wladyslaw was silent for quite a while. Then he said, “Now perhaps we might have a meal to complete the day. You said something about beef?”

At four o’clock, the morning paper came through the letter slot.

“Are you tired?” Wladyslaw asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I won’t say much more. Just one thing—and now, my friend, you must give me your complete attention. It is simply this: do not tire, never lose interest, never grow indifferent—lose your invaluable curiosity and you let yourself die. It’s as simple as that. No?”