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become full of coal-dust; blood oozes out, and
the pains become so intolerable that I can
undertake nothing more. I am inclined to attribute
these pains which drive me wild to the unknown
powers which have persecuted me for years, and
frustrate my endeavours. I avoid people, neglect
societv, refuse invitations, and make myself
inaccessible to friends. I am surrounded by
silence and loneliness. It is the solemn and
terrible silence of the desert in which I
defiantly challenge the unknown, in order to
wrestle with him, body with body, and soul with
soul. I have proved that sulphur contains carbon;
now I intend to discover hydrogen and
oxygen in it, for they must be also present.
But my apparatus is insufficient, I need money,
my hands are black and bleeding, black as
misery, bleeding as my heart. For, during this
time, I continue to correspond with my wife. I
tell her of my successes in chemical experiments;
she answers with news about the illness of our
child, and here and there drops hints that my
science is futile, and that it is foolish to waste
money on it.
In a fit of righteous pride, in the passionate
desire to do myself an injury, I commit moral
suicide by repudiating my wife and child in an
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