himself in his bedroom, seated on a chair and gazing into
space in blank despair.

This was the end of everything.

He pictured to himself her lover. He did not know him, but he
succeeded in forming in his mind one of the biggest monsters that
ever inhabited the globe in the shape of man.

And Adele; he knew she must have been forced into it by her father.
"How she must groan under this yoke. To have to listen to that
vicious being with the prospect of one day being his wife." Why had
it come to this, why was the world so formed. Ah! the wicked world
we live in, the abominable, corrupted world. When would the
millennium come. When would all this unhappiness be swept away from
the earth's surface.

Alas! he would die before that time; so would thousands and millions
of others.

What had the world done that it must thus be continually sacrificed.
What had he done. Others were happy; surely no one had ever met such
a deception before. People had to suffer sometimes, but not such
intense, heart-rending suffering as he now endured.

He was full of despair. Before him, there was nothing but darkness.
The more he thought over his misfortunes, the more hopeless life
seemed to be.

The candle was now nearly burnt out, but he heeded it not. He waved
his hand near his face as if to scatter his thoughts. "Why did I
rescue him when he was drowning. (He was thinking of Mr. Rougeant.)
I risked being pulled into the water, I might have been drowned; and
this is the reward." Ah! how humanity must suffer. If there was no
joy, no real happiness on this earth, why live, why continue to
endure all this. Schopenhauer was quite right when he said life was
not worth living. Henceforth, he would be a pessimist. Three cheers
for pessimism!

Ah! the wicked world we live in.

The candle had now burnt itself out but the young man remained
seated, his hands thrust in his pockets, his eyes gazing at the
floor, and his heart in "kingdom come."

When the clock struck twelve, he awoke. He had fallen asleep and was
a little more composed than before. He undressed and went to bed.

He awoke early in the morning. He was crying. What was the matter
with him. It dawned upon him: he was going to have a fit of
melancholy.

He felt it, but he was powerless to prevent its intrusion. He was
like the man who stands between the rails, and suddenly sees a train
advancing at full speed towards him and remains with his eyes
riveted on the instrument