"You never seem old."
"It is the body that is old.
Sometimes I am afraid I will break off a finger as one breaks a stick of chalk.
And the spirit is no older and not much wiser."
"You are wise."
"No, that is the great fallacy; the wisdom of old men.
They do not grow wise.
They grow careful."
"Perhaps that is wisdom."
"It is a very unattractive wisdom.
What do you value most?"
"Some one I love."
"With me it is the same.
That is not wisdom.
Do you value life?"
"Yes."
"So do I.
Because it is all I have.
And to give birthday parties," he laughed. "You are probably wiser than I am.
You do not give birthday parties."
We both drank the wine.
"What do you think of the war really?" I asked.
"I think it is stupid."
"Who will win it?"
"Italy."
"Why?"
"They are a younger nation."
"Do younger nations always win wars?"
"They are apt to for a time."
"Then what happens?"
"They become older nations."
"You said you were not wise."
"Dear boy, that is not wisdom.
That is cynicism."
"It sounds very wise to me."
"It's not particularly.
I could quote you the examples on the other side.
But it is not bad.
Have we finished the champagne?"
"Almost."
"Should we drink some more?
Then I must dress."
"Perhaps we'd better not now."
"You are sure you don't want more?"
"Yes."
He stood up.
"I hope you will be very fortunate and very happy and very, very healthy."
"Thank you.
And I hope you will live forever."
"Thank you.