tal Code compels us to be born, to live, to suffer,
and to die without recompense or reason? Why should this Universe be an
ever-circling Wheel of Torture? Then a fresh impetus came to me. I rose
from my recumbent posture and stood erect; I trembled no more. A
curious sensation of defiant amusement possessed me so violently that I
laughed aloud. Such a laugh, too! I recoiled from the sound, as from a
blow, with a shudder. It was the laugh of--a madman! I thought no more;
I was resolved. I would fulfil the grim Law of Necessity to its letter.
If Necessity caused my birth, it also demanded my death. Necessity
could not force me to live against my will. Better eternal nothingness
than madness. Slowly and deliberately I took from my vest a Milanese
dagger of thin sharp steel--one that I always carried with me as a
means of self-defence--I drew it from its sheath, and looked at the
fine edge glittering coldly in the pallid moon-rays. I kissed it
joyously; it was my final remedy! I poised it aloft with firm
fingers--another instant and it would have been buried deep in my
heart, when I felt a powerful grasp on my wrist, and a strong arm
struggling with mine forced the dagger from my hand. Savagely angry at
being thus foiled in my desperate intent, I staggered back a few paces
and sullenly stared at my rescuer. He was a tall man, clad in a dark
overcoat bordered with fur; he looked like a wealthy Englishman or
American travelling for pleasure. His features were fine and
commanding; his eyes gleamed with a gentle disdain as he coolly met my
resentful gaze. When he spoke his voice was rich and mellifluous,
though his accents had a touch in them of grave scorn.

"'So you are tired of your life, young man! All the more reason have
you to live. Anyone can die. A murderer has moral force enough to jeer
at his hangman. It is very easy to draw the last breath. It can be
accomplished successfully by a child or a warrior. One pang of far less
anguish than the toothache, and all is over. There is nothing heroic
about it, I assure you! It is as common as going to bed; it is almost
prosy. LIFE is heroism, if you like; but death is a mere cessation of
business. And to make a rapid and rude exit off the stage before the
prompter gives the sign is always, to say the least of it, ungraceful.
Act the part out, no matter how bad the play. What say you?'

"And, balancing the dagger lightly on one finger, as though it were a
paper-knife, he smile