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soul swimming in ineffable happiness. It disgusts you. You
are a puritan and in your heart you despise sensual plea-
sures. Sensual pleasures are the most violent and the most
exquisite. I am a man blessed with vivid senses, and I have
indulged them with all my soul. I have to pay the penalty
now, and I am ready to pay.’
Philip looked at him for a while steadily.
‘Aren’t you afraid?’
For a moment Cronshaw did not answer. He seemed to
consider his reply.
‘Sometimes, when I’m alone.’ He looked at Philip. ‘You
think that’s a condemnation? You’re wrong. I’m not afraid
of my fear. It’s folly, the Christian argument that you should
live always in view of your death. The only way to live is to
forget that you’re going to die. Death is unimportant. The
fear of it should never influence a single action of the wise
man. I know that I shall die struggling for breath, and I
know that I shall be horribly afraid. I know that I shall not
be able to keep myself from regretting bitterly the life that
has brought me to such a pass; but I disown that regret. I
now, weak, old, diseased, poor, dying, hold still my soul in
my hands, and I regret nothing.’
‘D’you remember that Persian carpet you gave me?’ asked
Philip.
Cronshaw smiled his old, slow smile of past days.
‘I told you that it would give you an answer to your ques-
tion when you asked me what was the meaning of life. Well,
have you discovered the answer?’
‘No,’ smiled Philip. ‘Won’t you tell it me?’

Of Human Bondage