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　unwilling　to　display　the　insignia　on
  festive　occasions；　as　though　he　wished　to　conceal　them　in　the
  fear　of　appearing　boastful。　　〃It　is　enough　that　I　have　them；〃　he
  used　to　mutter。　　In　the　course　of　thirty　years　they　were　seen　on
  his　breast　only　twiceat　an　auspicious　marriage　in　the　family
  and　at　the　funeral　of　an　old　friend。　　That　the　wedding　which　was
  thus　honoured　was　not　the　wedding　of　my　mother　I　learned　only
  late　in　life；　too　late　to　bear　a　grudge　against　Mr。　Nicholas　B。；
  who　made　amends　at　my　birth　by　a　long　letter　of　congratulation
  containing　the　following　prophecy：　　〃He　will　see　better　times。〃
  Even　in　his　embittered　heart　there　lived　a　hope。　　But　he　was　not
  a　true　prophet。
  He　was　a　man　of　strange　contradictions。　　Living　for　many　years　in
  his　brother's　house；　the　home　of　many　children；　a　house　full　of
  life；　of　animation；　noisy　with　a　constant　coming　and　going　of
  many　guests；　he　kept　his　habits　of　solitude　and　silence。
  Considered　as　obstinately　secretive　in　all　his　purposes；　he　was
  in　reality　the　victim　of　a　most　painful　irresolution　in　all
  matters　of　civil　life。　　Under　his　taciturn；　phlegmatic　behaviour
  was　hidden　a　faculty　of　short…lived　passionate　anger。　　I　suspect
  he　had　no　talent　for　narrative；　but　it　seemed　to　afford　him
  sombre　satisfaction　to　declare　that　he　was　the　last　man　to　ride
  over　the　bridge　of　the　river　Elster　after　the　battle　of　Leipsic。
  Lest　some　construction　favourable　to　his　valour　should　be　put　on
  the　fact　he　condescended　to　explain　how　it　came　to　pass。　　It
  seems　that　shortly　after　the　retreat　began　he　was　sent　back　to
  the　town　where　some　divisions　of　the　French　Army　（and　amongst
  them　the　Polish　corps　of　Prince　Joseph　Poniatowski）；　jammed
  hopelessly　in　the　streets；　were　being　simply　exterminated　by　the
  troops　of　the　Allied　Powers。　　When　asked　what　it　was　like　in
  there　Mr。　Nicholas　B。　muttered　the　only　word　〃Shambles。〃　　Having
  delivered　his　message　to　the　Prince　he　hastened　away　at　once　to
  render　an　account　of　his　mission　to　the　superior　who　had　sent
  him。　　By　that　time　the　advance　of　the　enemy　had　enveloped　the
  town；　and　he　was　shot　at　from　houses　and　chased　all　the　way　to
  the　river　bank　by　a　disorderly　mob　of　Austrian　Dragoons　and
  Prussian　Hussars。　　The　bridge　had　been　mined　early　in　the　morning
  and　his　opinion　was　that　the　sight　of　the　horsemen　converging
  from　many　sides　in　the　pursuit　of　his　person　alarmed　the　officer
  in　command　of　the　sappers　and　caused　the　premature　firing　of　the
  charges。　　He　had　not　gone　more　than　200　yards　on　the　other　side
  when　he　heard　the　sound　of　the　fatal　explosions。　　Mr。　Nicholas　B。
  concluded　his　bald　narrative　with　the　word　〃Imbecile〃　uttered
  with　the　utmost　deliberation。　　It　testified　to　his　indignation　at
  the　loss　of　so　many　thousands　of　lives。　　But　his　phlegmatic
  physiognomy　li