that will move her;
If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,
Till she cry ‘Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,
I must have you!’
– THOMAS PARKE D’INVILLIERS
Chapter I
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind since then.
“Whenever you want to criticize any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always understood each other without words, and I knew that he meant much more than that. As a result, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments1, that’s why many curious natures have opened their secrets to me; but also I became the victim of many experienced bores. In college I was unjustly accused of being a politician2, because I could keep the secret grieves of unknown men. I didn’t want most of the confidences – often I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when