And in all this abominable story, what perhaps seems to me the most monstrous, is this comedy of friendship which George went through. He pretended to be seized with a sudden affection for Boris; until then, he had seemed never so much as to have set eyes on him. And I even wonder whether he was not himself influenced by his own acting, and whether the feelings he feigned were not on the point of becoming sincere--whether they did not actually become sincere as soon as Boris responded to them. George drew near him with an appearance of tenderness; in obedience to Ghéridanisol, he began to talk to him.... And, at the first words, Boris, who was panting for a little esteem and love, was conquered. Then Ghéridanisol elaborated his plan, and disclosed it to Phiphi and George. His idea was to invent a “test” to which the member on whom the lot fell should be submitted; and in order to set Phiphi at ease, he let it be understood that things would be arranged in such a manner that the lot would be sure to fall on Boris. The object of the test would be to put his courage to the proof. The exact nature of the test, Ghéridanisol did not at once divulge. He was afraid that Phiphi would offer some resistance. And, in fact, when Ghéridanisol a little later began to insinuate that old La Pérouse’s pistol would come in handy, “No, no!” he cried, “I won’t agree to that.” “What an ass you are! It’s only a joke,” retorted George, who was already persuaded. “And then, you know,” added Ghéri, “if you want to play the fool, you have only got to say so. Nobody wants you.” Ghéridanisol knew that this argument always told with Phiphi; and as he had prepared the paper on which each member of the brotherhood was to sign his name, he went on: “Only you must say so at once; because once you’ve signed, it’ll be too late.” “All right. Don’t be in a rage,” said Phiphi. “Pass me the paper.” And he signed. “As for me, old chap, I’d be delighted,” said George, with his arm fondly wound round Boris’s neck; “it’s Ghéridanisol who won’t have you.” “Why not?” “Because he’s afraid. He says you’ll funk.” “What does he know about it?” “That you’ll wriggle out of it at the first test.” “We shall see.” “Would you really dare to draw lots?” “Wouldn’t I!” “But do you know what you’re letting yourself in for?” Boris didn’t know, but he wanted to. Then George explained. “_The strong man cares nothing for life._” It remained to be seen. Boris felt a great swimming in his head; but he nerved himself and, hiding his agitation, “Is it true you’ve signed?” he asked. “Here! You can see for yourself.” And George held out the paper, so that Boris could read the three names on it. “Have you ...” he began timidly. “Have we what?...” interrupted George, so brutally that Boris did not dare go on. What he wanted to ask, as George perfectly understood, was whether the others had bound themselves likewise, and whether one could be sure that they wouldn’t funk either.