him down when he thought upon them.

"Suddenly I began to be deaf. A continuous humming sounded in my ears
which kept me in a perpetual whirl. I did not understand a single word
unless I looked at the lips of the speaker. I never noticed anyone
coming into my room until I suddenly caught sight of him. Oh! deafness
is indeed a horrible torture. The deaf man is far more completely shut
off from the world than the blind. At first I hid my wretchedness lest
they should make sport of me. Nobody is merciful to the deaf. Whenever
two people talked to each other in my presence I fancied they were
plotting against me. I feared to go to sleep lest I should be murdered
without hearing my door burst open. And then, too, in the night, in the
darkness, in my lonely deafness, I had an ear all the keener for those
sighs and moans which nobody could hear but myself. And in vain I drank,
in vain I sang riotously. After every bumper of wine it seemed to me as
if I was plunged more and more deeply into a roaring bottomless sea, and
at last I could not even hear my own howling. Then my soul died away
within me, I cast myself despairingly on my bed, and then for the first
time in my life it occurred to me to pray. The only thing I could think
of to say was: 'My God! my God!' as I wrung my hands, and the tears ran
down my cheeks."

And at these words tears stood once more in the headsman's eyes.

"That night I slept quietly, nothing disturbed me. Thus I slumbered for
many hours like one dead, and was only awakened at last by a feeling of
moisture all over my face. I had been lying face downwards, and a rush
of blood had come through my nose and mouth and wetted my couch. I
arose, douched my face in a large tub of water, and felt that my head
was very much relieved. I no longer heard that roaring sound as of a
deep sea rolling over me; there was no more whispering and moaning
around me; but, instead of that, I heard through the deep stillness of
the night the crying of a child. The crying of a child in my own house!
I fancied it was but a dream-voice--for was I not deaf?--and that
instead of a pursuing, the voice of an enticing spectre was now sounding
in my ear. But again the crying of a child penetrated to me from the
room where my wife usually slept. What could it be? I walked thither,
and lo! I could hear the soft pattering of my own footsteps. I must walk
more softly, thought I. And I did walk more softly, and then I also
heard distinct