t opinion of their skill. They advised some insignificant
drugs, and declared to me that there were no hopes, adding, as a
philosophical mode of consolation, that death was preferable to the
loss of reason. I did not agree on this point with these gentlemen:
I would have preferred insanity to death, for I hoped that her madness
would die away by degrees, and eventually disappear altogether. How
many mad people are cured, what numbers daily recover, yet death is
the last word of humanity; and, as a young poet has truly said, is
"the stone of the tomb."

Between the world and God a curtain falls! I determined to wage a
war against death, and to save my Anna by having recourse to the most
indisputable resources of science. I looked now upon my brotherhood
with more contempt than ever, and, confident in my love and zealous
will, I began my struggle with a destiny, tinged indeed with gloomy
clouds. I shut myself up in the sick-chamber, and never left my wife. I
had great difficulty in getting her to take the medicaments I trusted
she would derive so much benefit from; I was obliged to call to my
assistance all the influence I had over her, in order to persuade
her that the draughts I presented to her were not poisoned. She did
not sleep, but appeared very drowsy; these symptoms denoted very
clearly great disorder of the brain. For nine days she remained in
this dreadful state; during which time I scarcely knew whether she
was dead or alive; at every moment I besought the Almighty to work a
miracle in her behalf. One morning the poor creature closed her eyes. I
cannot describe my feelings of anguish. Would she ever awake again? I
leant over her; I heard her breathing gently, without apparent effort;
I felt her pulse, it beat calmer and more regular; she was evidently
better. I stood by her in deep anxiety. She still remained in a calm
sleep, and at the end of half-an-hour I felt convinced that this
satisfactory crisis would restore my invalid to life and reason. I
sat down by her bed-side, and stayed there eighteen hours, watching
her slightest movements. At length, after such cruel suspense, my
patient awoke, as if out of a dream.

"Have you been long watching?" she said, giving me her hand: "Have I,
then, been very ill? What care you have taken of me! Luckily you may
rest now, for I feel I am recovered."

I think I have during my life been a sharer of the strongest emotions
of joy or of sadness man can feel; but never ha