Let us suppose that I have a beloved friend,
an ailing person of a nervous, delicate organisation, who has taken
it into his poor cracked brains that he is going to expire at the
stroke of twelve on a given night. Without consulting the authorities
on ethical questions, I should, in such a case, flit about his room
secretly manipulating his timepieces, till I had advanced them a whole
hour, and then, just before the stroke of midnight, triumphantly produce
my watch and inform him that death had failed to keep the appointment.
Such an acted lie as that would weigh nothing on the conscience of any
man. The fact of the matter is, the circumstances must always be
considered and every case judged on its own particular merits. Now,
this affair of getting the key was not one for me to judge, since Ihad
been a chief actor in it, but rather for some acute and learned
casuist. I therefore made a mental note of it, with the intention of
putting it impartially before the first person of that description I
should meet. Having thus disposed of a troublesome matter, I felt
greatly relieved in mind, and turned into the kitchen once more. I had
scarcely sat down, however, before I round that one disagreeable
consequence of my performance--the fat senora's claim on my undying
devotion and gratitude--had yet to be faced. She greeted my entrance
with an effusive smile; and the sweetest smiles of some people one
meets are less endurable than their black looks.
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