Not so this elderly man with the dashing young woman on
his arm — the man is too handsome to be called old, in spite
of his white hair. The young woman has that look of com-
plete self-possession and easy tolerance which such young
women commonly manifest toward their elderly admirers —
this is not romance, but what is generically termed the "sure
thing." Schopenhauer is but faintly interested, and my eyes
wander toward the little American type. She has had her
second glass of wine by this time and it has hoisted a tiny



DINING WITH SCHOPENHAUER 159

flag in her cheek. A little more and she will succeed in her
determination to be pretty — the dinner is only half under
way. Schopenhauer bids me note that she eats now with
undisguised appetite, and that she fixes a steadier gaze upon
her young man than he can always meet. Both young heads
are together and they eat as fast as they talk — but youth
atones for all. These two continue to draw the gaze of
most persons in their vicinity.
