He had
always made himself liked on the rare occasions on which he had
come into contact with them--in a crowd, on holidays, or in the
workingmen's schools; but shyness on both sides held him back. Each
felt his inferiority; with pride on the one hand, and awkwardness on
the other, for Clerambault knew that in many essential respects he
was inferior to the intelligent workman. He was right; for from their
ranks will be recruited the leaders of the future. The best class of
these men contained many honest and virile minds able to understand
Clerambault. With an untouched idealism they still kept a firm hold on
reality, and though their daily life had accustomed them to struggles,
disappointments, and treachery, they were trained to patience; young
as some of them were, they were veterans of the social war, and there
was much that they could have taught Clerambault. They knew that
everything is for sale, that nothing is to be had for nothing, that
those who desire the future happiness of men must pay the price now,
in their own sufferings; that the smallest progress is gained step by
step and is lost often twenty times before it is finally conquered.
There is nothing final in this world. These men, solid and patient as
the earth, would have been of great use to Clerambault, and his vivid
intelligence would have been like a ray of sunshine to them.
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