in　itself。　You　saw　me　seeing　that　young　lady　off。　Didn’t　you　think　I　did　it　beautifully？”“Beautifully；”　I　admitted。　“I　envied　you。　There　was　I—”　“Yes；　I　can　imagine。　There　were　you；　shuffling　from　head　to　foot；　staring　blankly　at　your　friend；　trying　to　make　conversation。　I　know。　That’s　how　I　used　to　be　myself；　before　I　studied；　and　went　into　the　thing　professionally。　I　don’t　say　I’m　perfect　yet。　I’m　still　a　martyr　to　platform　fright。　A　railway　station　is　the　most　difficult　of　all　places　to　act　in；　as　you　have　discovered　for　yourself。”“But；”　I　said　with　resentment；　“I　wasn’t　trying　to　act。　I　really　felt。”“so　did　I；　my　boy；”　said　Le　Ros。　“You　can’t　act　without　feeling。　What’s…his…name；　the　Frenchman—Diderot；　yes—said　you　could；　but　what　did　he　know　about　it？　Didn’t　you　see　those　tears　in　my　eyes　when　the　train　started？　I　hadn’t　forced　them。　I　tell　you　I　was　moved。　So　were　you；　I　dare　say。　But　you　couldn’t　have　pumped　up　a　tear　to　prove　it。　You　can’t　express　your　feelings。　In　other　words；　you　can’t　act。　At　any　rate；”　he　added　kindly；　“not　in　a　railway　station。”　“Teach　me！”　I　cried。　He　looked　thoughtfully　at　me。　“Well；”　he　said　at　length；　“the　seeing…off　season　is　practically　over。　Yes；　I’ll　give　you　a　course。　I　have　a　good　many　pupils　on　hand　already；　but　yes；”　he　said；　consulting　an　ornate　notebook；　“I　could　give　you　an　hour　on　Tuesdays　and　Fridays。”

His　terms；　I　confess；　are　rather　high。　But　I　don’t　grudge　the　investment。

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論青年與老年

＇英國＇弗蘭西