le
torrent of thoughts without coherence or relation, and at length my
faculties began to wander. I forgot where I was, and the fate
that impended over me. I spoke of all that had happened to me long
before,--of my infancy, my boyhood, my adventures as a man, and those
with whom I lived in intimacy. The turnkey, an invalided sergeant of
artillery and a kind-hearted fellow, tried to recall me to myself, by
soothing and affectionate words. He even affected an interest in what I
said, to try and gain some clew to my wanderings, and caught eagerly
at anything that promised a hope of obtaining an influence over me. He
fetched the surgeon of the jail to my cell at last, and he pronounced
my case the incipient stage of a brain fever. I heard the opinion as he
whispered it, and understood its import thoroughly. I was in that state
where reason flashes at moments across the mind, but all powers of
collected thought are lost. Amongst the names that I uttered in my
ravings one alone attracted their attention: it was that of Ysaffich,
the Pole, of whom I spoke frequently.

"Do you know the Colonel Ysaffich?" said the doctor to me.

"Yes," said I, slowly; "he is a Russian spy."

"That answer scarcely denotes madness," whispered the doctor to the
turnkey, with a smile, as he turned away from the bed.

"Should you like to see him?" said he, in a kind tone.

"Of all things," replied I, eagerly; "tell him to come to me."

I conclude that this question was asked simply to amuse my mind, and
turn it from other painful thoughts, for he shortly after retired,
without further allusion to it; but from that hour my mind was riveted
on the one idea; and to everybody that approached my sick bed, my first
demand was, "Where was Count Ysaffich, and when was he coming to see
me?"

I had been again conveyed back to the military hospital, in which I was
lying when the Emperor came to make his customary visit. The prisoners'
ward was, however, one exempted from the honor he bestowed on the rest;
and one could only hear the distant sounds of the procession as it
passed from room to room.

I was lying, with my eyes half closed, lethargic and dull, when I heard
a voice say,--

"Yes, Colonel, he has spoken of you constantly, and asks every day when
you mean to come and see him."

"He never served in the Legion, notwithstanding," replied another voice,
"nor do I remember ever to have seen him before."

The tones of the speaker recalled me sud