"I feel it in my bones," said I, "that I shall kill you."

At that moment we stood at the entrance to the citadel, where a
good pair of horses and a sleigh awaited us. We got in, the robes
were piled around us, and the horses started off at a long trot. I
was muffled to the ears, but I could see how white and beautiful was
the world, how the frost glistened in the trees, how the balsams
were weighted down with snow, and how snug the chateaux looked with
the smoke curling up from their hunched chimneys.

Presently Doltaire replied to my last remark. "Conviction is the
executioner of the stupid," said he. "When a man is not great
enough to let change and chance guide him, he gets convictions,
and dies a fool."

"Conviction has made men and nations strong," I rejoined.

"Has made men and nations asses," he retorted. "The Mohammmedan
has conviction, so has the Christian: they die fighting each other,
and the philosopher sits by and laughs. Expediency, monsieur,
expediency is the real wisdom, the true master of this world.
Expediency saved your life to-day; conviction would have sent you
to a starry home."

As he spoke a thought came in on me. Here we were in the open
world, travelling together, without a guard of any kind. Was it not
possible to make a dash for freedom? The idea was put away from me,
and yet it was a fresh accent of Doltaire's character that he
tempted me in this way. As if he divined what I thought, he said
to me--for I made no attempt to answer his question: