The Idiot | Page 5

how I'd go
translated into French?"
"You couldn't be expressed in French," put in the Lawyer. "It would
take some barbarian tongue to do you justice."
"Very well," said the Idiot. "Proceed. Do me justice."

"I can't begin to," said Mr. Brief, angrily.
"That's what I thought," said the Idiot. "That's the reason why you
always do me such great injustice. You lawyers always have to be
doing something, even if it is only holding down a chair so that it won't
blow out of your office window. If you haven't any justice to mete out,
you take another tack and dispense injustice with lavish hand. However,
I'll forgive you if you'll tell me one thing. What's libel, Mr. Brief?"
"None of your business," growled the Lawyer.
"A very good general definition," said the Idiot, approvingly. "If there's
any business in the world that I should hate to have known as mine it is
that of libel. I think, however, your definition is not definite. What I
wanted to know was just how far I could go with remarks at this table
and be safe from prosecution."
"Nobody would ever prosecute you, for two reasons," said the lawyer.
"In a civil action for money damages a verdict against you for ten cents
wouldn't be worth a rap, because the chances are you couldn't pay. In a
criminal action your conviction would be a bad thing, because you
would be likely to prove a corrupting influence in any jail in creation.
Besides, you'd be safe before a jury, anyhow. You are just the sort of
idiot that the intelligent jurors of to-day admire, and they'd acquit you
of any crime. A man has a right to a trial at the hands of a jury of his
peers. I don't think even in a jury-box twelve idiots equal to yourself
could be found, so don't worry."
"Thanks. Have a cigarette?" said the Idiot, tossing one over to the
Lawyer. "It's all I have. If I had a half-dollar I should pay you for your
opinion; but since I haven't, I offer you my all. The temperature of my
coffee seems to have fallen, Mrs. Pedagog. Will you kindly let me have
another cup?"
"Certainly," said Mrs. Pedagog. "Mary, get the Idiot another cup."
Mary did as she was told, placing the empty bit of china at Mrs.
Pedagog's side.

"It is for the Idiot, Mary," said Mrs. Pedagog, coldly. "Take it to him."
"Empty, ma'am?" asked the maid.
"Certainly, Mary," said the Idiot, perceiving Mrs. Pedagog's point. "I
asked for another cup, not for more coffee."
[Illustration: "CERTAINLY. I ASKED FOR ANOTHER CUP"]
Mrs. Pedagog smiled quietly at her own joke. At hair-splitting she
could give the Idiot points.
"I am surprised that Mary should have thought I wanted more coffee,"
continued the Idiot, in an aggrieved tone. "It shows that she too thinks
me out of my mind."
"You are not out of your mind," said the Bibliomaniac. "It would be a
good thing if you were. In replenishing your mental supply you might
have the luck to get better quality."
"I probably should have the luck," said the Idiot. "I have had a great
store of it in my life. From the very start I have had luck. When I think
that I was born myself, and not you, I feel as if I had had more than my
share of good-fortune--more luck than the law allows. How much luck
does the law allow, Mr. Brief?"
"Bosh!" said Mr. Brief, with a scornful wave of his hand, as if he were
ridding himself of a troublesome gnat. "Don't bother me with such
mind-withering questions."
"All right," said the Idiot. "I'll ask you an easier one. Why does not the
world recognize matrimony?"
Mr. Whitechoker started. Here, indeed, was a novel proposition.
"I--I--must confess," said he, "that of all the idiotic questions I--er--I
have ever had the honor of hearing asked that takes the--"
"Cake?" suggested the Idiot.

"--palm!" said Mr. Whitechoker, severely.
"Well, perhaps so," said the Idiot. "But matrimony is the science, or the
art, or whatever you call it, of making two people one, is it not?"
"It certainly is," said Mr. Whitechoker. "But what of it?"
"The world does not recognize the unity," said the Idiot. "Take our
good proprietors, for instance. They were made one by yourself, Mr.
Whitechoker. I had the pleasure of being an usher at the ceremony,
yielding the position of best man gracefully, as is my wont, to the
Bibliomaniac. He was best man, but not the better man, by a simple
process of reasoning. Now no one at this board disputes that Mr. and
Mrs. Pedagog are one, but how about the world? Mr. Pedagog takes
Mrs. Pedagog to a concert. Are they one