had written, and you'd better read it out to them--I can't make
head or tail of your beastly names--and they can answer PRESENT,
and fall in against that wall.'

It was with a singular movement of incongruous feelings that I read
the first name on the list. I had no wish to look again on my own
handiwork; my flesh recoiled from the idea; and how could I be sure
what reception he designed to give me? The cure was in my own
hand; I could pass that first name over--the doctor would not know-
-and I might stay away. But to the subsequent great gladness of my
heart, I did not dwell for an instant on the thought, walked over
to the designated wall, faced about, read out the name
'Champdivers,' and answered myself with the word 'Present.'

There were some half dozen on the list, all told; and as soon as we
were mustered, the doctor led the way to the hospital, and we
followed after, like a fatigue party, in single file. At the door
he paused, told us 'the fellow' would see each of us alone, and, as
soon as I had explained that, sent me by myself into the ward. It
was a small room, whitewashed; a south window stood open on a vast
depth of air and a spacious and distant prospect; and from deep
below, in the Grassmarket the voices of hawkers came up clear and
far away. Hard by, on a little bed, lay Goguelat. The sunburn had
not yet faded from his face, and the stamp of death was already
there. There was something wild and unmannish in his smile, that
took me by the throat; only death and love know or have ever seen
it. And when he spoke, it seemed to shame his coarse talk.

He held out his arms as if to embrace me. I drew near with
incredible shrinkings, and surrendered myself to his arms with