Things are as they are, and that is enough for the man of deeds."
"As a dramatist, are you not concerned for motivations?"
"Only as a dramatist. Empathies, sympathies by such means the insecure try to rationalize their murky and frightening universes."
"That is an interesting point of view."
"So it is. I have now said all I care to say and you may leave."
Glawen pretended not to hear the suggestion.
"The day is probably not too young for a glass of wine; I suppose that you feel as I do on the subject, since we are both men of cultivated taste."
Floreste darted Glawen a haughty glance.
"Do you think to gain my favor with such footling tactics? I want none of your wine, early or late."
"I expected that you would take this position," said Glawen.
"I brought no wine."
"Bah," muttered Floreste.
"Your prattle is both inane and insipid, Did you hear me correctly? I gave you permission to leave."
"Just as you like. But I have not told you the news!"
"I am not interested in news. I only wish to live out my days in peace."
"Even when the news concerns you?"
Floreste looked down at the white flower. He shook his head and sighed.
"Grace and gentility: goodbye: no doubt forever.
I am embroiled in vulgarity against my will." He looked Glawen up and down as if seeing him for the first time.
"Well why not? The wise man, as he travels through life, enjoys the scenery to either side, since he knows he will not come this way again. The road ahead winds back and forth, over the hills and far away, and who knows where it leads?"
"Sometimes it is easy to guess," said Glawen.
"As, for instance, in your own case."
Floreste, jumping to his feet, marched back and forth across the room, arms clasped behind his back. Glawen watched in silence. Floreste returned to his chair.
"These are dismal times. I will drink wine."
"It's all the same with me," said Glawen.
"I came prepared for either contingency." He went to the door and rapped on the panel.
Marcus Diffin opened the shutter to the peephole.
"What do you want?"
"My parcel."
"I must pour it into a synthan container and supply synthan cups. Criminals are not allowed the use of glass."
"Don't call me a criminal!" roared Floreste.
"I am a dramatic artist! There is a notable difference!"
"If you say so, sir. Here is the wine. Drink with joy."
"What an idiot!" stormed Floreste.
"Still--what does it matter? The wise man rejoices in each fleeting instant! Pour the wine with a loose hand!"
"It is a sad affair," said Glawen.
"Your termination will bring tears to many an eye."
"Including my own. It is shameful to treat me so."
"What of your grotesque crimes? You deserve much worse."
"Nonsense! Those so-called crimes were a means to an end:
