such an
environment, I have acquired the same predilection, so that now my one
aim in life is knowledge. I do not see how love could aid me in this,
while I do see how it might prove a great obstacle in my pathway.
Household cares, and with them the care of a man, are not conducive to
the acquirement of learning. Now I will listen to you."

"In a measure our cases are similar. I too have always deemed the
search for knowledge the highest aim in life, but I did not extract
that desire from my surroundings, for there was no inspiration about
me. What I have learned, prior to my companionship with Dr. Medjora,
was rather stolen sweets, that I obtained only in secret. The ideas
about love, however, probably did emanate from my environment, for
while I believe that my adopted mother loved me, I did not discover it
until the day on which she died. Because no one loved me, I believed
that no one ever would. But in my later analysis I have come to
believe, that after starving from the lack of affection for so many
years, I have finally lost the responsive feeling that gives birth to
the emotion. I think that no one can attract me to that extent
necessary to enkindle in my heart the emotion called love."

He looked away in a wistful manner, and Agnes felt a slight pity for
the lad who had never known the love of his parents.

"Does it sadden you to think that way?" she asked softly.

"You have detected that? Yes! It is very curious. Ordinarily I accept
the idea calmly. But occasionally I seem to be two persons, and one,
who recognizes the happiness possible from love, looks at the other
with pitying sympathy, because he will never love. Then in a moment I
am my single self again, but the momentary hallucination puzzles me.
It is as though I had been in the presence of a wraith, and the name
of the spectre, dead to me, were Love itself. It is not a pleasant
thought, and you must pardon my telling you. Ah! There comes the
Judge!"

He bowed his adieux and went out into the hall to meet Judge Dudley.
Agnes took up her book and essayed to read again, but the spectre of
love which he had described, danced like a little red demon with
forked tail, up and down the pages, until she put the book aside and
went up to her room, where she threw herself on her lounge and lost
herself in thought.

When Leon reached his room, upon returning home, he was surprised to
find his dog, Lossy, lying under his bed, growling ominously at Madame