"Oh, it is too fascinating!" she said. "You mean that even now the whole of life is before me, that there is a whole other plane to explore. But I've got to jump down to that, haven't I, to dive?"
Transcendent egoism was there, but still shallow, still sunny and enchanting.
"Yes, dive probably," said Madge. "But I don't know whether you will find it fascinating. As I said, you haven't yet decided whether your string is to be black or white. Do you understand? Are you going to be good, or are you going to be bad?"
Lucia frowned a little; there was something brutally direct about this, which was not much to her taste.
"Yes, it puzzles you a little because it is so simple," went on Madge; "and no doubt such a consideration seems to you a little middle-class, a little bourgeois."
"I always say my prayers," said Lucia, "however late I am. At least, almost."
"Ah, that's bad!" said Madge quickly. "If you pray, you should pray when you have got something to pray about."
"Oh, but I always have," said Lucia. "I prayed tremendously that the Brayton week might be fine, and it was lovely."
Madge could not help laughing. Lucia spoke with such sincerity. But she became grave again.
"Oh, you poor child!" she said. "You will be awake some day, and then—then you will either pray prayers that scald you, and wring the heart out of you, or you will not pray at all. It is one thing to struggle to get what you want; it is quite another to struggle not to take what you want. Many people don't struggle then, they take it."
Lucia put her head a little on one side, like some inquiring bird.
"Oh, do you mean horrid things," she said, "like wanting somebody else's husband? I think that is so disgusting."
Lady Heron got up
"I will preach no more," she said. "Dear Lucia, I hope you will never understand a word I have said."
"Oh, but I think it's fascinating," said she. "But I think you are wrong about me."
