only rational position for a man of science. I fancy that
nothing but experience satisfies you,--why should it?"

"The trouble is that experiments, according to the old maxim, are
generally made, and should be made, upon worthless bodies, and that they
are necessarily very far from being conclusive in regard to the human
body. There is no doubt that dogs are subject to grief, joy, hope, and
disappointment; but it is not possible to conclude from the conduct of a
dog who is deprived of a particularly interesting bone he is gnawing,
for instance, how a man will act who is robbed of his possessions.
Similarity of misfortune does not imply analogy in the consequences."

"Certainly not. Otherwise everybody would act in the same way, if put in
the same case."

The professor's conversation was interesting if only on account of the
extreme simplicity with which he spoke of such a complicated subject. I
was impressed with the belief that he belonged to a class of scientists
whose interest in what they hope to learn surpasses their enthusiasm for
what they have already learned,--a class of scientists unfortunately
very rare in our day. For we talk more nonsense about science than
would fill many volumes, because we devote so much time to the pursuit
of knowledge; nevertheless, the amount of knowledge actually acquired,
beyond all possibility of contradiction, is ludicrously small as
compared with the energy expended in the pursuit of it and the noise
made over its attainment. Science lays many eggs, but few are hatched.
Science boasts much, but accomplishes little; is vainglorious, puffed
up, and uncharitable; desires to be considered as the root of all
civilization and the seed of all good, whereas it is the heart that
civilizes, never the head.

I walked by the professor's side in deep thought, and he, too, became
silent, so that we talked little more until we were coming home and had
almost reached the house.

"Why has Patoff never been in England before?" I asked, suddenly.

"I believe he has," answered Cutter.

"He says he has not."

"Never mind. I believe he was in London during nearly eighteen months,
about four or five years ago, as secretary in the Russian embassy. He
never went near his relations."

"Why should he say now that he never was in the country?"

"Because they would not like it, if they knew he had been so near them
without ever visiting them."

"Was his mother with him? Did she never write to h