at was so,' said Serapion, turning pale, and his eyes glowing with
a sombre fire. 'But Serapion the martyr, had no connection with that
monk, who, in the fury of his asceticism, did battle against human
nature. I am Serapion the martyr, to whom you allude.'

"'What?' I cried, with feigned surprise. 'You believe that you are that
Serapion who suffered such a hideous martyrdom so many hundred years
ago?'

"That,' said Serapion with much calmness, 'may appear incredible to
you; and I admit that it must sound very wonderful to many who cannot
see further than the points of their own noses. However, it is as I
tell you. God's omnipotence permitted me to survive my martyrdom, and
to recover from its effects, because it was ordained, in His mysterious
providence, that I had still to pass a certain period of my existence,
to His praise and glory, here in the Theban desert. There is nothing
now to remind me of the tortures which I suffered except sometimes a
severe headache, and occasional violent cramps and twitchings in my
limbs.'

"Now,' thought I, 'is the time to commence my cure.'

"I made a wide circumbendibus, and talked in an erudite style
concerning the malady of 'Fixed Idea,' which attacks people, marring,
like one single discord, the otherwise harmonious organisms. I spoke of
the scientific man who could not be induced to rise from his chair for
fear he would break the windows across the street with his nose. I
mentioned the Abbot Molanus, who conversed most rationally upon every
subject, but would not leave his room because he thought he was a
barleycorn, and the hens would swallow him. I came to the fact that to
confound oneself with some historical character was a frequent form of
Fixed Idea. 'Nothing more absurd and preposterous,' I said, 'could
possibly be imagined than that a little bit of woodland country eight
miles from B----, daily frequented by country folk, sportsmen, and
people walking for exercise was the Theban desert, and he himself that
ascetic who suffered martyrdom many centuries ago.'

"Serapion listened in silence. He seemed to feel what I said, and to be
struggling with himself in deep reflection. So that I thought it was
time to strike my decisive blow. I stood up, took him by both hands,
and cried, loudly and emphatically:

"'Count P----, awake from the pernicious dream which is enthralling
you; throw off that abominable dress, and come back to your family,
which mourns your loss, and to