mistress that I would never see her again, and begged
her not to try to see me unless she wished to be exposed to the shame of
being refused admittance. I called a servant and ordered him to deliver
the letter at once. He had hardly closed the door when I called him
back. He did not hear me; I did not dare call again; covering my face
with my hands, I yielded to an overwhelming sense of despair.

CHAPTER IV. THE PATH OF DESPAIR

The next morning the first question that occurred to my mind was: "What
shall I do?"

I had no occupation. I had studied medicine and law without being able
to decide on either of the two careers; I had worked for a banker for
six months, and my services were so unsatisfactory that I was obliged
to resign to avoid being discharged. My studies had been varied but
superficial; my memory was active but not retentive.

My only treasure, after love, was reserve. In my childhood I had devoted
myself to a solitary way of life, and had, so to speak, consecrated my
heart to it. One day my father, solicitous about my future, spoke to me
of several careers among which he allowed me to choose. I was leaning on
the window-sill, looking at a solitary poplar-tree that was swaying
in the breeze down in the garden. I thought over all the various
occupations and wondered which one I should choose. I turned them all
over, one after another, in my mind, and then, not feeling inclined to
any of them, I allowed my thoughts to wander. Suddenly it seemed to
me that I felt the earth move, and that a secret, invisible force was
slowly dragging me into space and becoming tangible to my senses. I
saw it mount into the sky; I seemed to be on a ship; the poplar near my
window resembled a mast; I arose, stretched out my arms, and cried:

"It is little enough to be a passenger for one day on this ship floating
through space; it is little enough to be a man, a black point on that
ship; I will be a man, but not any particular kind of man."

Such was the first vow that, at the age of fourteen, I pronounced in the
face of nature, and since then I have done nothing, except in obedience
to my father, never being able to overcome my repugnance.

I was therefore free, not through indolence but by choice; loving,
moreover, all that God had made and very little that man had made. Of
life I knew nothing but love, of the world only my mistress, and I
did not care to know anything more. So, falling in love upon leaving
colleg