Conscience | Page 9

this one
and tar from that. On commencing to practise I had as patients only the
people of the quarter, whose principle was never to pay a doctor, and
who wait for the arrival of a new one in order that they may be rid of
the old one and this sort is numerous everywhere. It happened that my
concierge was from Auvergne like myself, and he considered it his duty

to make me give free attendance to all those from our country that he
could find in the quarter and everywhere else, so that I had the patriotic
satisfaction of seeing all the charcoal-dealers from Auvergne sprawling
in my beautiful armchairs. Finally, by remaining religiously at home
every Sunday in summer, while the other doctors were away, by rising
quickly at night every time my bell rang, I was able to acquire a
practice among a class of people who were more reasonable and
satisfactory. I obtained a prize at the Academy. At the same time I
delivered, at a moderate price, lectures in anatomy at schools on the
outskirts of the city; I gave lessons; I undertook all the anonymous
work of the book trade and of journalism that I could find. I slept five
hours a day, and in four years I had decreased my debt seven thousand
francs. If my upholsterer wished to be paid I could have it arranged, but
that was not his intention. He wishes to take his furniture that is not
worn out, and to keep the money that he has received. If I do not pay
these three thousand francs in a few days I shall be turned into the
street. To tell the truth, I shall soon have a thousand francs, but those
who owe it to me are not in Paris, or will pay in January. Behold my
situation! I am desperate because there is no one to whom I can apply;
those whom I have asked for money have not listened to me; I have
told you that I have no relatives, and neither have I any
friends--perhaps because I am not amiable. And then I thought of you.
You know me. You know that people say I have a future before me. At
the end of three months I shall be a doctor in the hospitals; my
competitors admit that I shall not miss admission; I have undertaken
some experiments that will, perhaps, give me fame. Will you give me
your hand?"
Glady extended it toward him. "I thank you for having applied to me; it
is a proof of confidence that touches me." He pressed the hand that he
had taken with some warmth. "I see that you have divined the
sentiments of esteem with which you have inspired me."
Saniel drew a long breath.
"Unfortunately," continued Glady, "I cannot do what you desire
without deviating from my usual line of conduct. When I started out in

life I lent to all those who appealed to me, and when I did not lose my
friends I lost my money. I then took an oath to refuse every one. It is an
oath that I cannot break. What would my old friends say if they learned
that I did for a young man what I have refused to do for them?"
"Who would know it?"
"My conscience."
They had reached the Quai Voltaire, where fiacres were stationed.
"At last here are some cabs," Glady said. "Pardon me for leaving you,
but I am in a hurry."

CHAPTER III
A LAST RESORT
Gady entered the cab so quickly that Saniel remained staring at the
sidewalk, slightly dazed. It was only when the door closed that he
understood.
"His conscience!" he murmured. "Behold them! Tartufes!"
After a moment of hesitation, he continued his way and reached the
bridge of Saints-Peres, but he walked with doubtful steps, like a man
who does not know where he is going. Presently he stopped, and,
leaning his arms on the parapet, watched the sombre, rapidly flowing
Seine, its small waves fringed with white foam. The rain had ceased,
but the wind blew in squalls, roughening the surface of the river and
making the red and green lights of the omnibus boats sway in the
darkness. The passers-by came and went, and more than one examined
him from the corner of the eye, wondering what this tall man was doing
there, and if he intended to throw himself into the water.
And why not? What better could he do?

And this was what Saniel said to himself while watching the flowing
water. One plunge, and he would end the fierce battle in which he had
so madly engaged for four years, and which would in the end drive him
mad.
It was not the first time