The vague heroism which Camors first conceived he brought away with him.  He demanded nothing, as you may remember, but the practical formula for the time and country in which he was destined to live.  He found, doubtless, that the task he set himself was more difficult than he had imagined; that the truth to which he would devote himself—­but which he must first draw from the bottom of its well—­did not stand upon many compliments.  But he failed no preparation to serve her valiantly as a man might, as soon as she answered his appeal.  He had the advantage of several years of opposing to the excitements of his age and of an opulent life the austere meditations of the poor student.

During that period of ardent, laborious youth, he faithfully shut himself up in libraries, attended public lectures, and gave himself a solid foundation of learning, which sometimes awakened surprise when discovered under the elegant frivolity of the gay turfman.  But while arming himself for the battle of life, he lost, little by little, what was more essential than the best weapons-true courage.

In proportion as he followed Truth day by day, she flew before and eluded him, taking, like an unpleasant vision, the form of the thousand-headed Chimera.

About the middle of the last century, Paris was so covered with political and religious ruins, that the most piercing vision could scarcely distinguish the outlines of the fresh structures of the future.  One could, see that everything was overthrown; but one could not see any power that was to raise the ruins.  Over the confused wrecks and remains of the Past, the powerful intellectual life of the Present-Progress—­the collision of ideas—­the flame of French wit, criticism and the sciences—­threw a brilliant light, which, like the sun of earlier ages, illuminated the chaos without making it productive.  The phenomena of Life and of Death were commingled in one huge fermentation, in which everything decomposed and whence nothing seemed to spring up again.

At no period of history, perhaps, has Truth been less simple, more enveloped in complications; for it seemed that all essential notions of humanity had been fused in a great furnace, and none had come out whole.

The spectacle is grand; but it troubles profoundly all souls—­or at least those that interest and curiosity do not suffice to fill; which is to say, nearly all.  To disengage from this bubbling chaos one pure religious moral, one positive social idea, one fixed political creed, were an enterprise worthy of the most sincere.  This should not be beyond the strength of a man of good intentions; and Louis de Camors might have accomplished the task had he been aided by better instruction and guidance.

It is the common misfortune of those just entering life to find in it less than their ideal.  But in this respect Camors was born under a particularly unfortunate star, for he found in his surroundings—­in his own family even—­only the worst side of human nature; and, in some respects, of those very opinions to which he was tempted to adhere.