g. Without the advice of an experienced pilot, with no
other compass than a book, which is not always very clear, because of
its laconic adherence to set terms, our poor bark is bound to be wrecked
on the first reef. One might as well put out to sea in a nutshell and
defy the billows of the vasty deep. He does not use these actual words,
but his gloomy estimate of the extreme difficulties to be encountered is
enough to explain his refusal. I am quite free to go and break my neck
in far countries; he is more prudent and will not follow me.

I suspect another reason, which the deserter does not confess. He has
obtained the title needed for his plans. What does he care for the rest?
Is it worth while to sit up late at night and wear one's self out in
toil for the mere pleasure of learning? He must be a madman who, without
the lure of profit, lends an ear to the blandishments of knowledge. Let
us retreat into our shell, close our lid to the importunities of the
light and lead the life of a mussel. There lies the secret of happiness.
This philosophy is not mine. My curiosity sees in a stage accomplished
no more than the preparation for a new stage towards the retreating
unknown. My partner, therefore, leaves me. Henceforth, I am alone, alone
and wretched. There is no one left with whom I can sit up and thresh
the subject out in exhilarating discussion. There is no one near me to
understand me, no one who can even passively oppose his ideas to mine
and take part in the conflict whence the light will spring, even as a
spark is born of the concussion of two flints. When a difficulty arises,
steep as a cliff, there is no friendly shoulder to support me in my
attempt to climb it. Alone, I have to cling to the roughness of the
jagged rock, to fall, often, and pick myself up, covered with bruises,
and renew the assault; alone, I must give my shout of triumph, without
the least echo of encouragement, when, reaching the summit and broken in
the effort, I am at last allowed to see a little way beyond.

My mathematical campaign will cost me much stubborn thought: I am aware
of this after the first few lines of my book. I am entering upon the
domain of the abstract, rough ground that can only be cleared by the
insistent plow of reflection. The blackboard, excellent for the curves
of analytical geometry studied in my friend's company, is now neglected.
I prefer the exercise book, a quire of paper bound in a cover. With this
confidant, wh