his own hand
two of them who tried to desert."

"You must remember," said Adams, taking up the cudgels for Berselius and
almost surprised himself at so doing, "that an expedition like that, if it
is not held together by a firm hand, goes to pieces, and the result is
disaster for everyone. And you know what niggers are."

"There you are," laughed Stenhouse. "The man has obsessed you already, and
you'll come back, if you go, like Bauchardy, the man who died in the
hospital at Marseilles, cursing Berselius, yet so magnetized by the power
of the chap that you would be ready to follow him again if he said 'Come,'
and you had the legs to stand on. That is how Bauchardy was."

"The man, undoubtedly, has a great individuality," said Adams. "Passing
him in the street one might take him for a very ordinary person. Meeting
him for the first time, he looks all good nature; that smile----"

"Always," said Stenhouse. "Beware of a man with a perpetual smile on his
face."

"Yes, I know that, but this smile of Berselius's is not worn as a cloak.
It seems quite natural to the man, yet somehow bad, as if it came from a
profound and natural cynicism directed against all things--including all
things good."

"You have put it," said Stenhouse, "in four words."

"But, in spite of everything," said Adams, "I believe the man to have
great good qualities: some instinct tells me so."

"My dear sir," said Stenhouse, "did you ever meet a bad man worth twopence
at his trade who had not good qualities? The bad man who is half good--so
to speak--is a much more dangerous villain than the barrier bully without
heart or soul. When hell makes a super-excellent devil, the devil puts
goodness in just as a baker puts soda in his bread to make it rise. Look
at Verlaine."

"Well," said Adams, "I have promised Berselius, and I will have to go.
Besides, there are other considerations."

He was thinking of Maxine, and a smile lit up his face.

"You seem happy enough about it," said Stenhouse, rising to go. "Well, 'he
who will to Cupar maun to Cupar.' When do you start?"

"I don't know yet, but I shall hear to-night."

They passed out into the Rue St. Honore, where they parted.

"Good luck," said Stenhouse, getting into a _fiacre_.

"Good-bye," replied Adams, waving his hand.

Being in that quarter of the town, and having nothing especial to do, he
determined to go to Schaunard's in the Rue de la Paix, and see about his
guns.

Schaunard persona