him.

But his first care had been to seek out his foster-father, Jonathan, the
old and devoted servitor of his family. To him he confided his dreadful
secret.

"You must stand between the world and me, Jonathan," he said. "Treat me
as a baby. Never ask me for orders. See that the servants feed me, and
tend me, and care for me in absolute silence. Above all things, never
let anyone pester me. Never let me form a wish of any kind."

For some months, the eccentric Marquis de Valentin was the talk of
Paris. He lived in monastic silence and seclusion, and Jonathan never
permitted any of his friends to enter the mansion. But one morning his
old tutor, Porriquet, called, and Jonathan thought he might cheer his
young master. He could not ask Raphael: "Do you wish to see M.
Porriquet?" But after some thought he found a way of putting the
question: "M. Porriquet is here, my lord. Do you think he ought to
enter?"

Raphael nodded. Porriquet was alarmed at the appearance of his pupil. He
looked like a plant bleached by darkness. The fact was, Raphael had
surrendered every right in life in order to live. He had despoiled his
soul of all the romance that lies in a wish. The better to struggle with
the cruel power that he had challenged, he had stifled his imagination.
He did not allow himself even the pleasures of fancy, lest they should
awaken some desire. He had become an automaton.

Porriquet, unfortunately, was now an irritating old proser. He had
failed in life and wanted to air all his grievances. At the end of five