Laertes reaches down to cradle Lucien's face in his palm, meeting his gaze with a tender expression. "Only that I think love is the greatest service we can do one another, but some inward resistance demands that we not accept it. Whence this resistance springs, I know not--from our knowledge of man's sinful nature, perhaps, or from the thousand pressures of being brought up with the expectation of excellence. But it has been the case more often than not, that those men whose days I most wish to ease with my love are the men least willing to accept that service as their due."