The Capricorn shall teach us that the problem is more obscure than the abbé led me to believe.

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My youthful meditations owe some happy moments to Condillac's1 famous statue which, when endowed with the sense of smell, inhales the scent of a rose and out of that single impression creates a whole world of ideas. My twenty-year-old mind, full of faith in syllogisms, loved to follow the deductive jugglery of the abbé-philosopher: I saw, or seemed to see, the statue take life in that action of the nostrils, acquiring attention, memory, judgment and all the psychological paraphernalia, even as still waters are aroused and rippled by the impact of a grain of sand. I recovered from my illusion under the instruction of my abler master, the animal. The Capricorn shall teach us that the problem is more obscure than the abbé led me to believe.