isitor; "I cannot mark you for a
pass. Go and read up the lectures and come to me again. Then we shall
see."

A pause. I feel an impulse to torment the student a little for liking
beer and the opera better than science, and I say, with a sigh:

"To my mind, the best thing you can do now is to give up medicine
altogether. If, with your abilities, you cannot succeed in passing
the examination, it's evident that you have neither the desire nor the
vocation for a doctor's calling."

The sanguine youth's face lengthens.

"Excuse me, professor," he laughs, "but that would be odd of me, to say
the least of it. After studying for five years, all at once to give it
up."

"Oh, well! Better to have lost your five years than have to spend the
rest of your life in doing work you do not care for."

But at once I feel sorry for him, and I hasten to add:

"However, as you think best. And so read a little more and come again."

"When?" the idle youth asks in a hollow voice.

"When you like. Tomorrow if you like."

And in his good-natured eyes I read:

"I can come all right, but of course you will plough me again, you
beast!"

"Of course," I say, "you won't know more science for going in for my
examination another fifteen times, but it is training your character,
and you must be thankful for that."

Silence follows. I get up and wait for my visitor to go, but he stands
and looks towards the window, fingers his beard, and thinks. It grows
boring.

The sanguine youth's voice is pleasant and mellow, his eyes are clever
and ironical, his face is genial, though a little bloated from frequent
indulgence in beer and overlong lying on the sofa; he looks as though
he could tell me a lot of interesting things about the opera, about his
affairs of the heart, and about comrades whom he likes. Unluckily, it is
not the thing to discuss these subjects, or else I should have been glad
to listen to him.

"Professor, I give you my word of honour that if you mark me for a pass
I... I'll..."

As soon as we reach the "word of honour" I wave my hands and sit down to
the table. The student ponders a minute longer, and says dejectedly:

"In that case, good-bye... I beg your pardon."

"Good-bye, my friend. Good luck to you."

He goes irresolutely into the hall, slowly puts on his outdoor things,
and, going out into the street, probably ponders for some time longer;
unable to think of anything, except "old devil," inwardly addressed to
m