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strength； and retain a sufficient reserve when they reach the
goal。
〃I shall do harm again with the best intentions in the world。 Some
men are like oaks； I am a delicate shrub it may be； and I
forsooth； must needs aspire to be a forest cedar。
〃There you have my bankrupt's schedule。 The disproportion between
my powers and my desires； my want of balance； in short； will bring
all my efforts to nothing。 There are many such characters among
men of letters； many men whose intellectual powers and character
are always at variance； who will one thing and wish another。 What
would become of me？ I can see it all beforehand； as I think of
this and that great light that once shone on Paris； now utterly
forgotten。 On the threshold of old age I shall be a man older than
my age； needy and without a name。 My whole soul rises up against
the thought of such a close； I will not be a social rag。 Ah； dear
sister； loved and worshiped at least as much for your severity at
the last as for your tenderness at the firstif we have paid so
dear for my joy at seeing you all once more； you and David may
perhaps some day think that you could grudge no price however high
for a little last happiness for an unhappy creature who loved you。
Do not try to find me； Eve； do not seek to know what becomes of
me。 My intellect for once shall be backed by my will。
Renunciation； my angel； is daily death of self； my renunciation
will only last for one day； I will take advantage now of that
day。 。 。 。
〃TWO O'CLOCK。
〃Yes； I have quite made up my mind。 Farewell for ever； dear Eve。
There is something sweet in the thought that I shall live only in
your hearts henceforth； and I wish no other burying place。 Once
more； farewell。 。 。 。 That is the last word from your brother
〃LUCIEN。〃
Lucien read the letter over； crept noiselessly down stairs； and left
it in the child's cradle； amid falling tears he set a last kiss on the
forehead of his sleeping sister； then he went out。 He put out his
candle in the gray dusk； took a last look at the old house； stole
softly along the passage； and opened the street door； but in spite of
his caution； he awakened Kolb； who slept on a mattress on the workshop
floor。
〃Who goes there？〃 cried Kolb。
〃It is I； Lucien； I am going away； Kolb。〃
〃You vould haf done better gif you at nefer kom；〃 Kolb muttered
audibly。
〃I should have done better still if I had never come into the world；〃
Lucien answered。 〃Good…bye； Kolb； I don't bear you any grudge for
thinking as I think myself。 Tell David that I was sorry I could not
bid him good…bye； and say that this was my last thought。〃
By the time the Alsacien was up and dressed； Lucien had shut the house
door； and was on his way towards the Charente by the Promenade de
Beaulieu。 He might have been going to a festival； for he had put on
his new clothes from Paris and his dandy's trinkets for a drowning
shroud。 Something in Lucien's tone had struck Kolb。 At first the man
thought of going to ask his mistress whether she knew that her brother
had left the house； but as the deepest silence prevailed； he concluded
that the departure had been arranged beforehand； and lay down again
and slept。
Little； considering the gravity of the question； has been written on
the subject of suicide； it has not been studied。 Perhaps it is a
disease that cannot be observed。 Suicide is one effect of a sentiment
which we will call self…esteem； if you will； to prevent confusion by
using the word 〃honor。〃 When a man despises himself； and sees that
others despise him； when real life fails to fulfil his hopes； then
comes the moment when he takes his life； and thereby does homage to
societyshorn of his virtues or his splendor； he does not care to
face his fellows。 Among atheistsChristians being without the
question of suicideamong atheists； whatever may be said to the
contrary； none but a base coward can take up a dishonored life。
There are three kinds of suicidethe first is only the last and acute
stage of a long illness； and this kind belongs distinctly to
pathology； the second is the suicide of despair； and the third the
suicide based on logical argument。 Despair and deductive reasoning had
brought Lucien to this pass； but both varieties are curable； it is
only the pathological suicide that is inevitable。 Not infrequently you
find all three causes combined； as in the case of Jean…Jacques
Rousseau。
Lucien having made up his mind fell to considering methods。 The poet
would fain die as became a poet。 At first he thought of throwing
himself into the Charente and making an end then and there； but as he
came down the steps from Beaulieu for the last time； he heard the
whole town talking of his suicide； he saw the horrid sight of a
drowned dead body； and thought of the recognition and the inquest；
and； like some other suicides； felt that vanity reached beyond death。
He remembered the day spent at Courtois' mill； and his thoughts
returned to the round pool among the willows that he saw as he came
along by the little river； such a pool as you often find on small
streams； with a still； smooth surface that conceals great depths
beneath。 The water is neither green nor blue nor white nor tawny； it
is like a polished steel mirror。 No sword…grass grows about the
margin； there are no blue water forget…me…nots； nor broad lily leaves；
the grass at the brim is short and thick； and the weeping willows that
droop over the edge grow picturesquely enough。 It is easy to imagine a
sheer precipice beneath filled with water to the brim。 Any man who
should have the courage to fill his pockets with pebbles would not
fail to find death； and never be seen thereafter。
At the time while he admired the lovely miniature of a landscape； the
poet had thought to himself； 〃 'Tis a spot to make your mouth water
for a noyade。〃
He thought of it now as he went down into L'Houmeau； and when he took
his way towards Marsac； with the last sombre thoughts gnawing at his
heart； it was with the firm resolve to hide his death。 There should be
no inquest held over him； he would not be laid in earth； no one should
see him in the hideous condition of the corpse that floats on the
surface of the water。 Before long he reached one of the slopes； common
enough on all French highroads； and commonest of all between Angouleme
and Poitiers。 He saw the coach from Bordeaux to Paris coming up at
full speed behind him； and knew that the passengers would probably
alight to walk up the hill。 He did not care to be seen just then。
Turning off sharply into a beaten track； he began to pick the flowers
in a vineyard hard by。
When Lucien came back to the road with a great bunch of the yellow
stone…crop which grows everywhere upon the stony soil of the
vineyards； he came out upon a traveler dressed in black from head to
foot。 The stranger wore powder； there were silver buckles on his shoes
of Orleans leather； and his brown face was scarred and seamed as if he
had fallen into the fire in infancy。 The traveler； so o