inary mode of existence by amusing himself like others.

"But the pleasures of others will not amuse me," Des Esseintes
indignantly cried.

Without debating the matter, the doctor merely asserted that this
radical change was, in his eyes, a question of life or death, a
question of health or insanity possibly complicated in the near future
by tuberculosis.

"So it is a choice between death and the hulks!" Des Esseintes
exasperatedly exclaimed.

The doctor, who was imbued with all the prejudices of a man of the
world, smiled and reached the door without saying a word.

Chapter 16

Des Esseintes locked himself up in his bedroom, closing his ears to
the sounds of hammers on packing cases. Each stroke rent his heart,
drove a sorrow into his flesh. The physician's order was being
fulfilled; the fear of once more submitting to the pains he had
endured, the fear of a frightful agony had acted more powerfully on
Des Esseintes than the hatred of the detestable existence to which the
medical order condemned him.

Yet he told himself there were people who live without conversing with
anyone, absorbed far from the world in their own affairs, like
recluses and trappists, and there is nothing to prove that these
wretches and sages become madmen or consumptives. He had
unsuccessfully cited these examples to the doctor; the latter had
repeated, coldly and firmly, in a tone that admitted of no reply, that
his verdict, (confirmed besides by consultation with all the experts
on neurosis) was that distraction, amusement, pleasure alone might
make an impression on this malady whose spiritual side eluded all
remedy; and made impatient by the recriminations of his patient, he
for the last time declared that he would refuse to continue treating
him if he did not consent to a change of air, and live under new
hygienic conditions.

Des Esseintes had instantly betaken himself to Paris, had consulted
other specialists, had impartially put the case before them. All
having unhesitatingly approved of the action of their colleague, he
had rented an apartment in a new house, had returned to Fontenay and,
white with rage, had given orders to have his trunks packed.

Sunk in his easy chair, he now ruminated upon that unyielding order
which was wrecking his plans, breaking the strings of his present life
and overturning his future plans. His beatitude was ended. He was
compelled to abandon this sheltering haven and return at full sp