atrocious because it was true。 All their universe was black with white spots。
〃Smith looked up with relief from the glittering pools below
to the glittering skies and the great black bulk of the college。
The only light other than stars glowed through one peacock…green
curtain in the upper part of the building； marking where
Dr。 Emerson Eames always worked till morning and received
his friends and favourite pupils at any hour of the night。
Indeed； it was to his rooms that the melancholy Smith was bound。
Smith had been at Dr。 Eames's lecture for the first half of the morning；
and at pistol practice and fencing in a saloon for the second half。
He had been sculling madly for the first half of the afternoon
and thinking idly （and still more madly） for the second half。
He had gone to a supper where he was uproarious； and on to a debating
club where he was perfectly insufferable； and the melancholy
Smith was melancholy still。 Then； as he was going home to his
diggings he remembered the eccentricity of his friend and master；
the Warden of Brakespeare； and resolved desperately to turn
in to that gentleman's private house。
〃Emerson Eames was an eccentric in many ways； but his throne
in philosophy and metaphysics was of international eminence；
the university could hardly have afforded to lose him； and； moreover；
a don has only to continue any of his bad habits long enough
to make them a part of the British Constitution。 The bad habits
of Emerson Eames were to sit up all night and to be a student
of Schopenhauer。 Personally； he was a lean； lounging sort of man；
with a blond pointed beard； not so very much older than his
pupil Smith in the matter of mere years； but older by centuries
in the two essential respects of having a European reputation
and a bald head。
〃‘I came； against the rules； at this unearthly hour；' said Smith； who was
nothing to the eye except a very big man trying to make himself small；
‘because I am coming to the conclusion that existence is really too rotten。
I know all the arguments of the thinkers that think otherwisebishops；
and agnostics； and those sort of people。 And knowing you were the greatest
living authority on the pessimist thinkers'
〃‘All thinkers；' said Eames； ‘are pessimist thinkers。'
〃After a patch of pause； not the firstfor this depressing conversation
had gone on for some hours with alternations of cynicism and silence
the Warden continued with his air of weary brilliancy： ‘It's all a question
of wrong calculation。 The most flies into the candle because he doesn't
happen to know that the game is not worth the candle。 The wasp gets
into the jam in hearty and hopeful efforts to get the jam into him。
IN the same way the vulgar people want to enjoy life just as they want
to enjoy ginbecause they are too stupid to see that they are paying too big
a price for it。 That they never find happinessthat they don't even know
how to look for itis proved by the paralyzing clumsiness and ugliness
of everything they do。 Their discordant colours are cries of pain。
Look at the brick villas beyond the college on this side of the river。
There's one with spotted blinds； look at it！ just go and look at it！'
〃‘Of course；' he went on dreamily； ‘one or two men see the sober
fact a long way offthey go mad。 Do you notice that maniacs mostly
try either to destroy other things； or （if they are thoughtful）
to destroy themselves？ The madman is the man behind the scenes；
like the man that wanders about the coulisse of a theater。
He has only opened the wrong door and come into the right place。
He sees things at the right angle。 But the common world'
〃‘Oh； hang the common world！' said the sullen Smith； letting his fist
fall on the table in an idle despair。
〃‘Let's give it a bad name first；' said the Professor calmly；
‘and then hang it。 A puppy with hydrophobia would probably struggle
for life while we killed it； but if we were kind we should kill it。
So an omniscient god would put us out of our pain。
He would strike us dead。'
〃‘Why doesn't he strike us dead？' asked the undergraduate abstractedly；
plunging his hands into his pockets。
〃‘He is dead himself；' said the philosopher； ‘that is where
he is really enviable。'
〃‘To any one who thinks；' proceeded Eames； ‘the pleasures of life；
trivial and soon tasteless； and bribes to bring us into a torture chamber。
We all see that for any thinking man mere extinction is the。。。 What
are you doing？。。。 Are you mad？。。。 Put that thing down。'
〃Dr。 Eames had turned his tired but still talkative head over his shoulder；
and had found himself looking into a small round black hole； rimmed by a
six…sided circlet of steel； with a sort of spike standing up on the top。
It fixed him like an iron eye。 Through those eternal instants during
which the reason is stunned he did not even know what it was。
Then he saw behind it the chambered barrel and cocked hammer of
a revolver； and behind that the flushed and rather heavy face of Smith；
apparently quite unchanged； or even more mild than before。
〃‘I'll help you out of your hole； old man；' said Smith；
with rough tenderness。 ‘I'll put the puppy out of his pain。'
〃Emerson Eames retreated towards the window。 ‘Do you mean
to kill me？' he cried。
〃‘It's not a thing I'd do for every one；' said Smith with emotion；
‘but you and I seem to have got so intimate to…night； somehow。
I know all your troubles now； and the only cure； old chap。'
〃‘Put that thing down；' shouted the Warden。
〃‘It'll soon be over； you know；' said Smith with the air of a
sympathetic dentist。 And as the Warden made a run for the window
and balcony； his benefactor followed him with a firm step
and a compassionate expression。
〃Both men were perhaps surprised to see that the gray and white
of early daybreak had already come。 One of them； however；
had emotions calculated to swallow up surprise。 Brakespeare College
was one of the few that retained real traces of Gothic ornament；
and just beneath Dr。 Eames's balcony there ran out what had perhaps
been a flying buttress； still shapelessly shaped into gray beasts
and devils； but blinded with mosses and washed out with rains。
With an ungainly and most courageous leap； Eames sprang out on this
antique bridge； as the only possible mode of escape from the maniac。
He sat astride of it； still in his academic gown； dangling his
long thin legs； and considering further chances of flight。
The whitening daylight opened under as well as over him that
impression of vertical infinity already remarked about the little
lakes round Brakespeare。 Looking down and seeing the spires
and chimneys pendent in the pools； they felt alone in space。
They felt as if they were looking over the edge from the North Pole
and seeing the South Pole below。
〃‘Hang the world； we said；' observed Smith； ‘and the world is hanged。
〃He has hanged the world upon nothing；〃 says the Bible。 Do you like being
hanged upon nothing？ I'm going to be hanged upon something myself。
I'm going to swing for you。。。 Dear； tender old phrase；' he murmured；
‘never true till this moment。 I am going to swing for you。
For you； dear friend。 For your sake。 At your express desire。'
〃‘Help！' cried the Warden of Brakespeare College； ‘help！'
〃‘The puppy struggles；' said the undergraduate； with an eye of pity；
‘the poor puppy struggles。 How fortunate it is that I am wiser
and kinder than he；' and he sighted his weapon so as exactly to cover
the upper part of Eames's bald head。
〃‘Smith；' said the philosopher with a sudden change to a sort
of ghastly lucidity； ‘I shall go mad。'
〃‘And so look at things from the right angle；' observed Smith；
sighing gently。 ‘Ah； but madness is only a palliative at best；
a drug。 The only cure is an operationan operation that is
always successful： death。'
〃As he spoke the sun rose。 It seemed to put colour into everything；
with the rapidity of a lightning artist。 A fleet of little
clouds sailing across the sky changed from pigeon…gray to pink。
All over the little academic town the tops of different buildings
took on different tints： here the sun would pick out the green
enameled on a pinnacle； there the scarlet tiles of a villa；
here the copper ornament on some artistic shop； and there
the sea…blue slates of some old and steep church roof。
All these coloured crests seemed to have something oddly
individual and significant about them； like crests of famous
knights pointed out in a pageant or a battlefield： they each
arrested the eye； especially the rolling eye of Emerson Eames
as he looked round on the morning and accepted it as his last。
Through a narrow chink between a black timber tavern and a big
gray college he could see a clock with gilt hands which the
sunshine set on fire。 He stared at it as though hypnotized；
and suddenly the clock began to strike； as if in personal reply。
As if at a signal； clock after clock took up the cry：
all the churches awoke like chickens at cockcrow。
The birds were already noisy in the trees behind the college。
The sun rose； gathering glory that seemed too full for the deep
skies to hold； and the shallow waters beneath them seemed golden
and brimming and deep enough for