which he
hasn't vomited! You think he's on your side, and suddenly he splashes you
with mire!... By the way, he related yesterday that skeleton keys and
stolen purses were found on Salvat when he was arrested in the Bois de
Boulogne! It's always Salvat! He's the inexhaustible subject for
articles. The mere mention of him suffices to send up a paper's sales!
The bribe-takers of the African Railways shout 'Salvat!' to create a
diversion. And the battles which wreck ministers are waged round his
name. One and all set upon him and make use of him and beat him down!"

With that cry of revolt and compassion, the friends separated for the
night. Pierre, who sat near the open window, overlooking the sparkling
immensity of Paris, had listened to the others without speaking a word.
He had once more been mastered by his doubts, the terrible struggle of
his heart and mind; and no solution, no appeasement had come to him from
all the contradictory views he had heard--the views of men who only
united in predicting the disappearance of the old world, and could make
no joint brotherly effort to rear the future world of truth and justice.
In that vast city of Paris stretching below him, spangled with stars,
glittering like the sky of a summer's night, Pierre also found a great
enigma. It was like chaos, like a dim expanse of ashes dotted with sparks
whence the coming aurora would arise. What future was being forged there,
he wondered, what decisive word of salvation and happiness would come
with the dawn, and wing its flight to every point of the horizon?

When Pierre, in his turn, was about to retire, Guillaume laid his hands
upon his shoulders, and with much emotion gave him a long look. "Ah! my
poor fellow," said he, "you've been suffering too for some days past, I
have noticed it. But you are the master of your sufferings, for the
struggle you have to overcome is simply in yourself, and you can subdue
it; whereas one cannot subdue the world, when it is the world, its
cruelty and injustice that make one suffer! Good night, be brave, act as
your reason tells you, even if it makes you weep, and you will find peace
surely enough."

Later on, when Pierre again found himself alone in his little house at
Neuilly, where none now visited him save the shades of his father and
mother, he was long kept awake by a supreme internal combat. He had never
before felt so disgusted with the falsehood of his life, that cassock
which he had persisted