grew very weak and showed signs of breaking up.
The evil thing came upon him which attacks so many fine fellows that
have drunk freely and stoutly all their days, and condemns them to see
the light of life go out slowly amid pains and tortures. Captain
Rauchfuss began to live in the midst of wonderful tormenting illusions.
He saw things that other people could not see; and since the majority
rules on this earth, and exceptions are penalized, Herr Rauchfuss was
obliged to make a journey now and then to Jena, to a physician whose
house offered a hospitable retreat for such peculiarly affected
gentlemen, until such time as they had provisionally, at least, laid
aside certain errors and misconceptions.

The less severe attacks he fought through on the Ettersberg, in his old
home; and it was there that his last hour found him.

The Sperbers had come, and old Frau Kummerfelden also, when they heard
that Herr Rauchfuss was about to depart. They wanted, in his last
hour, to be near the old fellow who had led his life as foolishly and
light-heartedly as most people, both for his own sake and for Beate's.

And so they sat in an adjoining room, while Herr Rauchfuss prepared
himself amid great sufferings for his long journey; they sat and drank
coffee, which the housekeeper was always making fresh, and ate ham
sandwiches. That night the doctor stayed up at the Ettersberg and
chatted with the three old people.

Tubby watched by her father's bedside through it all, like a brave
soldier. It was a hard death, and the child looked into the horrors of
life as into a blazing furnace. She herself had so much life and
sunshine in her that it was as though Life itself were standing by the
deathbed.

"You rascal, you!" cried Herr Rauchfuss angrily. "Just wait a bit--you
see how it goes? Soldier's child ... soldier's child!"

After he had lain awhile in the night very quiet and indifferent, he
said in a faint voice, "Let Sperber come." And when his old neighbor
entered, he felt for his hand and held on to it as if in terror; but
nothing could be done for him. He wanted to speak, and after a hard
struggle he got out, "well--born--and dying--very ill--old friend--old
friend!"

"Now, now," said Sperber, good-naturedly trying to soothe him, "we all
have to come to it--all come to it ... Oh, my God!" So he held the old
sinner's hand, with whom he had played so many games of bezique and had
so many good drinks, while the poor foolish soul i