f, that is, as much of it as had not been cut, and a
loose mountain of patches lying on the floor. I said, 'Angele, what are
you doing?' And then I took in the situation. Nevertheless, I cherished
hopes for a time. But one night I awoke and saw my wife's face close
above me with a ghastly far-away look in it. At the same time I felt
something at my throat. It was the very pair of scissors with which she
had cut the red silk. 'Come, Frederick,' she said, 'get up and dress. We
must both go to sleep in a coffin of linden-wood.' It was high time to
tell her relatives and mine and convoke a family council. I might have
protected myself, but it was dangerous for the children.

"So you see," Frederick concluded, "it was not very far along the road of
marriage that I travelled with my talent for life. I want everything and
nothing. I can do everything and nothing. My mind has been over-loaded,
and yet has remained empty."

"You certainly did go through a hard time," said Miss Burns simply.

"Yes," said Frederick, "you are right, but only if you use the present
tense instead of the past and if you fully gauge the extent to which the
trouble with my wife has been complicated for me. The question is, am I
to blame for the course that my wife's mental suffering took, or may I
acquit myself of all blame? All I can say is, that the suit in this case,
in which I myself am plaintiff, defendant and judge, is still pending,
and no definite decision has yet been rendered.

"Now, Miss Burns, do you see any sense in the Atlantic Ocean's having
refused to take me of all the persons on board the _Roland_? Do you see
any sense in my having fought like a madman for my mere existence? Do you
see any sense in my having struck some unfortunate creatures over the
head with my oars because they nearly capsized our boat? I struck them
so hard that they sank back in the water without a sound and disappeared.
Isn't it vile that I still cling to life and that I would rather do
anything than give up this botched and bungled existence of mine?"

Though he had spoken in a light conversational tone, Frederick was pale
and excited. It was long since the plates had been removed, and Miss
Burns, perhaps to avoid a painful answer, asked:

"Shall we take coffee here, Doctor von Kammacher?"

"Whatever you will, to-day, to-morrow, and forever, provided I do not
annoy you. I am a gloomy companion, I fear. I fancy there is no other
person in the world troubled