"Still the old Julius!" said the doctor, with a smile. "Still dreaming
and wandering, interested in everything, but having nothing to do!"

"Nothing to do, my dear fellow?" said Julius. "I've all the world to
enjoy!" and he buried his cheek in the soft fur of the cat.

"A purpose in life, however," said Lefevre, "gives an extraordinary zest
to all enjoyment."

"To live," said Julius, "is surely the purpose of life. Any smaller, any
more obvious purpose, will spoil life, just as it spoils Art."

"I believe, my boy, you are wrong in both," said Lefevre. "Art without a
purpose goes off into all sorts of madness and extravagance, and so does
life."

"You really think so?" said Julius, his attention fixed for an instant,
and looking as if he had set up the point and regarded it at a distance.
"Yes; perhaps it does." But the next moment his attention seemed given
to the cat; he fondled it, and talked to it soothingly.

"I am sure of it," said Lefevre. "Just listen to me, Julius. You have
wonderful intelligence and penetration in everything. You are fond of
science; science needs men like you more than the dull plodders that
usually take to it. When you were in Charbon's class you were his
favourite and his best pupil,--don't I remember?--and if you liked you
could be the greatest physician of the age."

"It is treason to yourself to say such a thing."