But to pay the vulgar penalty of prison--ah!" She shuddered and then almost coldly continued: "Suicide is an act of importance; it shows that a man recognises, at least, the worthlessness of his life.

He does one dramatic and powerful thing; he has an instant of great courage, and all is over.

If it had been a duel in which, of intention, he would fire wide, and his assailant would fire to kill, so much the better; so much the more would the world pity.

But either is superior, as a final situation, than death with a broken heart--I suppose that is possible ?--and disgrace, in a hospital." "You seem to think only of the present, only of the code and the world; and as if there were no heroism in a man living down his shame, righting himself heroically at all points possible, bearing his penalty, and showing the courage of daily wearing the sackcloth of remorse and restitution." "Oh," she persisted, "you make me angry.

I know what you wish to express; I know that you consider it a sin to take one's life, even in 'the high Roman fashion.' But, frankly, I do not, and I fear--or rather, I fancy--that I never shall.