Doctor.--What do you say?

Anton.--Nothing. Has the old prince a daughter?

Doctor.--Yes. Why?

Anton (laughing).--Ha, ha! Your trouble has the scent of a perfume
used by a lady. I smell here the petticoat of the princess. Behind the
member of parliament is Jozwowicz, just as behind the evening dress
there is the morning gown. What a strong perfume!

Doctor.--You may sell your perspicacity at another market. It is my
personal affair.

Anton.--Not at all, for it means that you put only half your soul into
public affairs. To the deuce with such business! Look at me. They howl
at me in the newspapers, they laugh at me--but I do not care. I will
tell you more! I feel that I shall never rise, although I am not
lacking in strength nor intelligence. I could try to get the first
place in camp to command, but I do not do it. Why? Because I know
myself very well. Because I know that I am lacking in order,
authority, tact. I have been and I am a tool, used by such as you, and
which to-morrow may be kicked aside when it is no more needed. But
my self-love does not blind me. I do not care most for myself--I am
working for my convictions--that is all. Any day I may be ousted from
my position. There is often misery in my house, and although I love my
wife and children--no matter. When it is a question of my convictions,
I will work, act, agitate. I put my whole soul in it. And for you, the
petticoat of a princess bars your way. I did not expect this from you.
Tfu! spit on everything and come with us.