when in the second form, during a certain
course of study, and which had impressed itself on his mind--a few lines
concerning a lady who was convicted of adultery and accused of having
set fire to Rome. "So true it is," ran the historian's comment, "that a
person who violates the laws of chastity is capable of any crime." He
smiled inwardly at this recollection, reflecting that the moralists,
after all, had queer ideas about life.

The wick, which was charring, gave an insufficient light. He could not
manage to snuff it, and it was giving out a horrible stench of paraffin.
Thinking of the author of the passage relating to the Roman lady, he
said to himself: "Sure enough, it was a queer idea that he got hold of
there!"

He felt reassured as to his innocence. His slight feeling of remorse had
entirely evaporated, and he was unable to conceive how he could for a
moment have believed himself responsible for Chevalier's death. Yet the
affair troubled him.

Suddenly he thought: "Supposing he were still alive!"

A while ago, for the space of a second, by the light of a match blown
out as soon as it was struck, he had seen the hole in the actor's skull.
But what if he had seen incorrectly? What if he had taken a mere graze
of the skin for a serious lesion of the brain and skull? Does a man
retain his powers of judgment in the first moments of surprise and
horror? A wound may be hideous without being mortal, or even
particularly serious. It had certainly seemed to him that the man was
dead. But was he a medical man, able to judge with certainty?

He lost all patience with the wick, which was still charring, and
muttered:

"This lamp is enough to poison one."

Then recalling a trick of speech habitual to Dr. Socrates, as to the
origin of which he was ignorant, he repeated mentally:

"This lamp stinks like thirty-six cart-loads of devils."

Instances occurred to him of several abortive attempts at suicide. He
remembered having read in a newspaper that a married man, after killing
his wife, had, like Chevalier, fired his revolver into his mouth, but
had only succeeded in shattering his jaw; he remembered that at his club
a well known sportsman, after a card scandal, tried to blow out his
brains but merely shot off an ear. These instances applied to Chevalier
with striking exactitude.

"Supposing he were not dead."

He wished and hoped against all evidence that the unfortunate man might
still be breathing, that he migh