riod a terrible power over him.
It sucked in his strength, and Engelhardt imagined that at any moment
the ground might give way beneath him and he might sink into the depths
and the whole universe might collapse above him.

When Michael Petroff and the little lawyer entered Engelhardt's room,
after vainly knocking at the door for some time, they found him in bed,
with his thin hairy hands lying helplessly on the coverlet. He was
gazing directly upward, and indeed his eyes were rolled up so far that
the whites showed, and he seemed to be looking fixedly at some special
point in the ceiling. His face was of a somewhat yellowish tone and
gave the impression of being made of porcelain, the skin was so smooth
and the bones were so prominent. His forehead was uncommonly large in
proportion to his small face and mouth, which was drawn together as if
ready to whistle and was surrounded by many little lines centering at
the lips. The shoemaker had wasted away so during the year that the
collar of his bright colored shirt stood out a finger's breadth from
his thin neck.

"Good morning!" said Michael Petroff gently and cheerfully. "Here are
some friends to see you!" The lawyer remained timidly standing in the
doorway.

Engelhardt did not answer. A shudder passed over him, and his thin
hairy hands twitched from time to time, as if he were receiving an
electric shock of varying strength.

Michael Petroff smiled and came toward him. "How are you, my dear
friend?" said he softly and sympathetically, bending over Engelhardt.
"Did the Doctor come to see you last night?"

Engelhardt rolled his head from side to side on the pillow. He was
exhausted by a sleepless night and by the effects of the hypnotics that
the Doctor had given him.

"Very ill!" answered he in a lifeless tone.

"Very ill?" Michael Petroff raised his eyebrows anxiously. He turned to
the little lawyer, who still stood at the door. "Our poor friend does
not feel well!" said he.

"Are you in pain?" Michael Petroff bent once more over the sick man and
held his ear near Engelhardt's mouth.

"Yes," answered the sick man in a dull and lifeless tone, and murmured
something in Petroff's ear. It sounded as if he were praying.

Michael Petroff straightened up again and glanced at the little lawyer.
"He says that he has come to the end of his strength, our poor friend.
He needs a new soul--like that time in the winter, when the attendant
died, don't you remember?" And h