Men who dwarf human nature do this.

The gods are juster.

The Countess, though she wished to remain for the pic-nic, and felt warm in anticipation of the homage to her new dress, was still a gallant general and a devoted sister, and if she said to herself, 'Come what may, I will stay for that pic-nic, and they shall not brow-beat me out of it,' it is that trifling pleasures are noisiest about the heart of human nature: not that they govern us absolutely.

There is mob-rule in minds as in communities, but the Countess had her appetites in excellent drill.

This pic-nic surrendered, represented to her defeat in all its ignominy.