To sum up:  If instinct did not lead us to retroact, to examine an object unexpectedly offered to our gaze, each surprise would expose us to error.

Now we must retroact to see an object as a whole and not expose ourselves to error, and then, too, does not the love which a creature inspires within us naturally extend to the medium which surrounds him, and in this way does it not seem as if all that touched him partook of his life and thus acquired some title to our contemplation?

Thus my mind, tortured by one preoccupying thought, had, thanks to the fixed idea which swayed it, found wondrous lessons in the simple incident of my cousin’s return, otherwise so devoid of interest; and I may truly say that the lesson learned from meeting my cousin taught me more than all those I had received in the space of three years.  In short, I had learned how vain is advice dictated by the caprice of a master without a system!  I had learned the inanity of individual reason in a matter of experience.  I knew that certain laws existed, that those laws proceeded from a Supreme Reason, an immense centre of light, of which each man’s reason is but a single ray.  I knew without a doubt how ignorant my masters were of those laws to the study of which I meant to devote my life.  I possessed facts which I saw could be applied in countless ways, luminous doctrines radiating from the application.

Thenceforth I had the nucleus of the science I had so vainly asked of my masters, and I did not despair of formulating it.

Judge of my joy!  The facts I then found myself the possessor of, seemed to me more valuable than all the treasures of the world.

Episode II.

Some time later, I again saw my worthy cousin, the innocent cause of all my joys.  He was a medical student, and came to propose a visit to the dissecting-room.  I did not hesitate to accept; the proposal harmonized with my desire.

I did not go, as so many go to the morgue, merely to see dead bodies.  No; the curiosity that impelled me, and the avidity with which I pursued the object of my study, was not to be so easily satisfied.

Dead bodies only attracted me when they were—­if not dissected—­at least flayed.  Children break their dolls to see what there is inside; so I, too, wanted to see what there was in a corpse.  It seemed to me that under the mutilations which the scalpel had inflicted on the body, I should find the answer to more than one enigma—­might solve some of the secrets of life.

The prospect of this visit had the charm of a pleasure party to me.  I made it a holiday and awaited the hour with impatience.

But, on arriving, when I found myself in that place chill and gloomy as the tomb; when I felt choked by the mephitic gases that arose from this seat of infection; when I found myself in the presence of a heap of corpses mutilated by the scalpel, disfigured by putrefaction and partially devoured by rats and worms; when, beneath tables laden with these horrible remains, I saw mean tubs filled with human entrails mingled with limbs and heads severed from their trunks; when I felt fragments of flesh reduced to the state of filthy mud, clinging to my feet, my heart throbbed violently, and I was overcome by an indescribable sense of repulsion.