"
"But," said Lefevre, earnestly, "your life surely is not your own to do
with it what you like!"
"In the name of truth, Lefevre," answered Julius, "if my life is not my
own, what is? I get its elements from others, but I fashion it myself,
just as much as the sculptor shapes his statue, or the poet turns his
poem. You don't deny to the sculptor the right to smash his statue if it
does not please him, nor to the poet the right to burn his
manuscript;--why should you deny me the right to dispose of my life? I
know--I know," said he, seeing Lefevre open his mouth and raise his hand
for another observation, "that your opinion is the common one, but that
is the only sanction it has; it has the sanction neither of true
morality nor of true religion! But here is the waiter to tell you the
carriage is come. I'm glad. Let us get out into the air and the
sunshine."
The carriage was the doctor's own; his mother, although the widow of a
Court physician, was too poor to maintain much equipage, but she made
what use she pleased of her son's possessions.
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