ation of himself and his
circumstances, he sometimes effected in his fits of gloom.

"Boy," he would say, "avoid me to-day. If I were superstitious, I should
even beg for an interest in your prayers. I am in the black fit; the evil
spirit of King Saul, the hag of the merchant Abudah, the personal devil
of the mediaeval monk, is with me--is in me," tapping on his breast. "The
vices of my nature are now uppermost; innocent pleasures woo me in vain;
I long for Paris, for my wallowing in the mire. See," he would continue,
producing a handful of silver, "I denude myself, I am not to be trusted
with the price of a fare. Take it, keep it for me, squander it on
deleterious candy, throw it in the deepest of the river--I will
homologate your action. Save me from that part of myself which I disown.
If you see me falter, do not hesitate; if necessary, wreck the train! I
speak, of course, by a parable. Any extremity were better than for me to
reach Paris alive."

Doubtless the Doctor enjoyed these little scenes, as a variation in his
part; they represented the Byronic element in the somewhat artificial
poetry of his existence; but to the boy, though he was dimly aware of
their theatricality, they represented more. The Doctor made perhaps too
little, the boy possibly too much, of the reality and gravity of these
temptations.

One day a great light shone for Jean-Marie. "Could not riches be used
well?" he asked.

"In theory, yes," replied the Doctor. "But it is found in experience that
no one does so. All the world imagine they will be exceptional when they
grow wealthy; but possession is debasing, new desires spring up; and the
silly taste for ostentation eats out the heart of pleasure."

"Then you might be better if you had less," said the boy.

"Certainly not," replied the Doctor; but his voice quavered as he spoke.

"Why?" demanded pitiless innocence.

Doctor Desprez saw all the colours of the rainbow in a moment; the stable
universe appeared to be about capsizing with him. "Because," said
he--affecting deliberation after an obvious pause--"because I have formed
my life for my present income. It is not good for men of my years to be
violently dissevered from their habits."

That was a sharp brush. The Doctor breathed hard, and fell into
taciturnity for the afternoon. As for the boy, he was delighted with the
resolution of his doubts; even wondered that he had not foreseen the
obvious and conclusive answer. His faith in t