throat with his knife, and she had fallen with a rattle in her throat and the blood had gushed out in a torrent—he lost his courage. 'I could not finish her off,' he said, 'but I went back from the bedroom to the sitting-room, and there sat down and smoked a cigarette.' Only after stupefying himself with tobacco was he able to return to the bedroom, finish cutting the old lady's throat, and begin examining her things.
Evidently the desire to smoke at that moment was evoked in him, not by a wish to clear his thoughts, or be merry, but by the need to stifle something that prevented him from completing what he had planned to do.
Any smoker may detect in himself the same definite desire to stupefy himself with tobacco at certain, specially difficult, moments. I look back at the days when I used to smoke: when was it that I felt a special need of tobacco? It was always at moments when I did not wish to remember certain things that presented themselves to my recollection, when I wished to forget—not to think. I sit by myself doing nothing and know I ought to set to work, but don't feel inclined to, so I smoke and go on sitting. I have promised to be at some one's house by five o'clock, but I have stayed too long somewhere else; I remember that I have missed the appointment, but I do not like to remember it, so 1 smoke. I get vexed, and say unpleasant things to some one, and know I am doing wrong, and see that I ought to stop, but I want to give vent to my irritability—so I smoke and continue to be irritable. I play at cards and lose more than I intended to risk—so I smoke. I have placed myself in an awkward position, have acted badly, have made a mistake, and ought to acknowledge the mess I am in and thus escape from it, but I do not like to acknowledge it, so I accuse others—and smoke. I write something and am not quite satisfied with what I have written. I ought to abandon it, but I wish to finish what I have planned to do—so I smoke. I dispute, and see that my opponent and I do not under-
