other ear
when she was only a child, during the first outbreak of his malady.

Michael Petroff chatted and laughed pleasantly with the head physician
and carried the roses to his friend, the lawyer.

"Here are some flowers for you. I do not want them!"

The lawyer's eyes opened wide with delight, and he took the roses
carefully as if they were fragile.

Michael Petroff's second great day was that on which his newspaper
appeared.

The paper was always printed in the town. Michael Petroff had induced
the porter of the Sanatorium to undertake take this commission. The
porter delivered the manuscript to the printer and brought back the
twenty-five printed copies to Michael Petroff. And then for a few days
he was in a state of the greatest excitement. He sent the paper to the
doctors, especially to Dr. Maerz, and waited in suspense to see what
effect it would have. At such times he could not work, but wandered
about the house and garden all day. If he met a doctor, he would stop
and cast a triumphant glance at him, smiling as if secure of victory.

But a few days later he would question the doctors: "May I ask whether
you have received a newspaper?"

"A newspaper?"

"Yes! I received it myself. _The Bayonet_?"

"Oh yes, I remember now. I will take a look at it."

"Yes, please do. There may be some things in it that will interest you.
Ha, ha, ha!" And he laid his hand on the Doctor's shoulder and gazed
meaningly at him.

Finally he asked the head physician himself.

"Yes, yes," answered he, "certainly I read that paper, my dear Captain.
A curious thing. I made inquiries immediately, but the editors were not
to be found, in spite of all my pains. They do not seem to be in
existence. Or else they are gone. I scarcely know what to think of the
paper, my dear Captain."

Then for a few days Michael Petroff would wander disconsolately about,
and his depression might even bring on melancholia or frenzy. But
after a few days he would always regain his cheerful spirits. He would
greet his friends, and apologize for his disagreeable behavior. And
immediately he would begin to plan out another newspaper. This time it
must surely be a success. Take care. Dr. Maerz!

Such was Michael Petroff, Captain in the Russian army.

Friend Engelhardt, whom Michael Petroff and the lawyer were going to
visit, was a gray-haired man about fifty years old, who had been only a
year in Dr. Maerz's sanatorium. He was a shoemaker by trade