atisfaction out of life, for ever mumbling the bare dry bones of
science. Such a life as his might as well be passed in the receiver of
an air-pump."

"Still the old Julius!" said the doctor, with a smile. "Still dreaming
and wandering, interested in everything, but having nothing to do!"

"Nothing to do, my dear fellow?" said Julius. "I've all the world to
enjoy!" and he buried his cheek in the soft fur of the cat.

"A purpose in life, however," said Lefevre, "gives an extraordinary zest
to all enjoyment."

"To live," said Julius, "is surely the purpose of life. Any smaller, any
more obvious purpose, will spoil life, just as it spoils Art."

"I believe, my boy, you are wrong in both," said Lefevre. "Art without a
purpose goes off into all sorts of madness and extravagance, and so does
life."

"You really think so?" said Julius, his attention fixed for an instant,
and looking as if he had set up the point and regarded it at a distance.
"Yes; perhaps it does." But the next moment his attention seemed given
to the cat; he fondled it, and talked to it soothingly.

"I am sure of it," said Lefevre. "Just listen to me, Julius. You have
wonderful intelligence and penetration in everything. You are fond of
science; science needs men like you more than the dull plodders that
usually take to it. When you were in Charbon's class you were his
favourite and his best pupil,--don't I remember?--and if you liked you
could be the greatest physician of the age."

"It is treason to yourself to say such a thing."

"Your fame would soon eclipse mine."

"Fame! fame!" exclaimed Julius, for an instant showing irritation. "I
would not give a penny-piece for fame if all the magicians of the East
came crying it down the streets! Why should I seek fame? What good would
it do me if I had it?"

"Well, well," said Lefevre; "let fame alone: you might be as unknown as
you like, and do a world of good in practice among the poor."

Julius looked at him, and set the cat down.

"My dear Lefevre," said he, "I did not think you could urge such common
twaddle! You know well enough,--nobody knows better,--first of all, that
there are already more men waiting to do that kind of thing than can
find occupation: why should I go down among them and try to take their
work? And you know, in the next place, that medical philanthropy, like
all other philanthropy, is so overdone that the race is fast
deteriorating; we strive with so much success to keep t