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The scholastic year came to an end。 I took a fairly good place
at the exams。； which for me （for certain reasons） happened to be
a more difficult task than for other boys。 In that respect I
could enter with a good conscience upon that holiday which was
like a long visit pour prendre conge of the mainland of old
Europe I was to see so little of for the next four and twenty
years。 Such； however； was not the avowed purpose of that tour。
It was rather； I suspect； planned in order to distract and occupy
my thoughts in other directions。 Nothing had been said for
months of my going to sea。 But my attachment to my young tutor
and his influence over me were so well known that he must have
received a confidential mission to talk me out of my romantic
folly。 It was an excellently appropriate arrangement； as neither
he nor I had ever had a single glimpse of the sea in our lives。
That was to come by…and…by for both of us in Venice； from the
outer shore of Lido。 Meantime he had taken his mission to heart
so well that I began to feel crushed before we reached Zurich。
He argued in railway trains； in lake steamboats； he had argued
away for me the obligatory sunrise on the Righi； by Jove！ Of his
devotion to his unworthy pupil there can be no doubt。 He had
proved it already by two years of unremitting and arduous care。
I could not hate him。 But he had been crushing me slowly； and
when he started to argue on the top of the Furca Pass he was
perhaps nearer a success than either he or I imagined。 I
listened to him in despairing silence； feeling that ghostly；
unrealised and desired sea of my dreams escape from the unnerved
grip of my will。
The enthusiastic old Englishman had passedand the argument went
on。 What reward could I expect from such a life at the end of my
years； either in ambition； honour or conscience？ An unanswerable
question。 But I felt no longer crushed。 Then our eyes met and a
genuine emotion was visible in his as well as in mine。 The end
came all at once。 He picked up the knapsack suddenly and got on
to his feet。
〃You are an incorrigible； hopeless Don Quixote。 That's what you
are。〃
I was surprised。 I was only fifteen and did not know what he
meant exactly。 But I felt vaguely flattered at the name of the
immortal knight turning up in connection with my own folly； as
some people would call it to my face。 Alas！ I don't think there
was anything to be proud of。 Mine was not the stuff the
protectors of forlorn damsels； the redressers of this world's
wrongs are made of； and my tutor was the man to know that best。
Therein； in his indignation； he was superior to the barber and
the priest when he flung at me an honoured name like a reproach。
I walked behind him for full five minutes； then without looking
back he stopped。 The shadows of distant peaks were lengthening
over the Furca Pass。 When I came up to him he turned to me and
in full view of the Finster…Aarhorn； with his band of giant
brothers rearing their monstrous heads against a brilliant sky；
put his hand on my shoulder affectionately。
〃Well！ That's enough。 We will have no more of it。〃
And indeed there was no more question of my mysterious vocation
between us。 There was to be no more question of it at all；
nowhere or with any one。 We began the descent of the Furca Pass
conversing merrily。 Eleven years later； month for month； I stood
on Tower Hill on the steps of the St。 Katherine's Dockhouse； a
master in the British Merchant Service。 But the man who put his
hand on my shoulder at the top of the Furca Pass was no longer
living。
That very year of our travels he took his degree of the
Philosophical Facultyand only then his true vocation declared
itself。 Obedient to the call he entered at once upon the four…
year course of the Medical Schools。 A day came when； on the deck
of a ship moored in Calcutta； I opened a letter telling me of the
end of an enviable existence。 He had made for himself a practice
in some obscure little town of Austrian Galicia。 And the letter
went on to tell me how all the bereaved poor of the district；
Christians and Jews alike； had mobbed the good doctor's coffin
with sobs and lamentations at the very gate of the cemetery。
How short his years and how clear his vision！ What greater
reward in ambition； honour and conscience could he have hoped to
win for himself when； on the top of the Furca Pass； he bade me
look well to the end of my opening life。
Chapter III。
The devouring in a dismal forest of a luckless Lithuanian dog by
my grand…uncle Nicholas B。 in company of two other military and
famished scarecrows； symbolised； to my childish imagination； the
whole horror of the retreat from Moscow and the immorality of a
conqueror's ambition。 An extreme distaste for that objectionable
episode has tinged the views I hold as to the character and
achievements of Napoleon the Great。 I need not say that these
are unfavourable。 It was morally reprehensible for that great
captain to induce a simple…minded Polish gentleman to eat dog by
raising in his breast a false hope of national independence。 It
has been the fate of that credulous nation to starve for upwards
of a hundred years on a diet of false hopes andwelldog。 It
is； when one thinks of it； a singularly poisonous regimen。 Some
pride in the national constitution which has survived a long
course of such dishes is really excusable。 But enough of
generalising。 Returning to particulars； Mr。 Nicholas B。 confided
to his sister…in…law （my grandmother） in his misanthropically
laconic manner that this supper in the woods had been nearly 〃the
death of him。〃 This is not surprising。 What surprises me is
that the story was ever heard of； for grand…uncle Nicholas
differed in this from the generality of military men of
Napoleon's time （and perhaps of all time）； that he did not like
to talk of his campaigns； which began at Friedland and ended
somewhere in the neighbourhood of Bar…le…Duc。 His admiration of
the great Emperor was unreserved in everything but expression。
Like the religion of earnest men； it was too profound a sentiment
to be displayed before a world of little faith。 Apart from that
he seemed as completely devoid of military anecdotes as though he
had hardly ever seen a soldier in his life。 Proud of his
decorations earned before he was twenty…five； he refused to wear
the ribbons at the buttonhole in the manner practised to this day
in Europe and even was unwi