w that if that young man was not cared
for he would die of suffusion; summoning all his powers, he painfully
dragged himself to the side of the wounded man, attended to him and
saved his life. Salsdorf himself died four days later from the effects
of amputation."

When I read these words I threw down my book, and melted into tears.

I do not regret those tears, for they were such as I could shed only
when my heart was right; I do not speak merely of Salsdorf, and do not
care for that particular instance. I am sure, however, that I did not
suspect any one that day. Poor dreamer! Ought I to remember that I have
been other than I am? What good will it do me as I stretch out my arms
in anguish to heaven and wait for the bolt that will deliver me forever?
Alas! it was only a gleam that flashed across the night of my life.

Like those dervish fanatics who find ecstasy in vertigo, so thought,
turning on itself, exhausted by the stress of introspection and tired of
vain effort, falls terror-stricken. So it would seem that man must be a
void and that by dint of delving unto himself he reaches the last turn
of a spiral. There, as on the summits of mountains and at the bottom of
mines, air fails, and God forbids man to go farther. Then, struck with
a mortal chill, the heart, as if impaired by oblivion, seeks to escape
into a new birth; it demands life of that which environs it, it eagerly
drinks in the air; but it finds round about only its own chimeras, which
have exhausted its failing powers and which, self-created, surround it
like pitiless spectres.

This could not last long. Tired of uncertainty, I resolved to resort to
a test that would discover the truth.

I ordered post-horses for ten in the evening. We had hired a caleche and
I gave directions that all should be ready at the hour indicated. At the
same time I asked that nothing be said to Madame Pierson. Smith came to
dinner; at the table I affected unusual cheerfulness, and without a
word about my plans, I turned the conversation to our journey. I would
renounce all idea of going away, I said, if I thought Brigitte did not
care to go; I was so well satisfied with Paris that I asked nothing
better than to remain as long as she pleased. I made much of all the
pleasures of the city; I spoke of the balls, the theatres, of the many
opportunities for diversion on every hand. In short, since we were happy
I did not see why we should make a change; and I did not think of goi