want of a retort.

'And now,' he concluded, 'do you begin to understand? My only friends
were those who ruined me. Gretz has been my academy, my sanatorium, my
heaven of innocent pleasures. If millions are offered me, I wave them
back: _Retro_, _Sathanas_!--Evil one, begone! Fix your mind on my
example; despise riches, avoid the debasing influence of cities.
Hygiene--hygiene and mediocrity of fortune--these be your watchwords
during life!'

The Doctor's system of hygiene strikingly coincided with his tastes; and
his picture of the perfect life was a faithful description of the one he
was leading at the time. But it is easy to convince a boy, whom you
supply with all the facts for the discussion. And besides, there was one
thing admirable in the philosophy, and that was the enthusiasm of the
philosopher. There was never any one more vigorously determined to be
pleased; and if he was not a great logician, and so had no right to
convince the intellect, he was certainly something of a poet, and had a
fascination to seduce the heart. What he could not achieve in his
customary humour of a radiant admiration 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
temptati