ver really ill,
mentally; and so long as the spirit keeps sound--well! it was really
enough to vex one to death that Theodore, ill as he was, was always in
better spirits than I was, although I was a perfectly well and sound
man; and that, so soon as his bodily sufferings gave him an interval of
rest, he delighted in the wildest fun and jests. At the same time, he
has the rare power of remembering his feverish illusions. The doctor
had forbidden him to talk; but when _I_ wished to tell him this, that
and the other in quiet moments, he would motion me to be silent and not
disturb his thoughts, which were busy over some important composition,
or other matter of the kind."

"Yes," said Theodore, laughing, "I can assure you that Lothair's
communications were of a very peculiar kidney at that time. Directly
after the dispersion of the Serapion Brethren he became possessed by a
foul fiend of evil humours. This you probably have gathered; but you
cannot, by any possibility, divine the extraordinary ideas which he got
into his head at this period of gloom and dejection. One day he came
to my bedside (for I had taken to my bed by that time) stating
that the old Chronicle Books were the grandest and richest mines and
treasure-houses of tales, legends, novels and dramas. Cyprian said the
same long ago, and it is true. Next day I noticed, although my malady
was besetting me sorely, that Lothair was sitting immersed in an old
folio. Moreover, he went every day to the public library and got
together all the old Chronicles he could lay his hands upon. _That_ was
all very well; but, besides, he got his head filled with the strange
old legends which are contained in those venerable books; and when, in
my hours of comparative quiet, he bestirred himself to talk to me on
'entertaining' subjects, what I heard of was war and pestilence,
monstrous abortions, hurricanes, comets, fires and floods, witches,
auto-da-fe's, enchantments, miracles, and, above all other subjects,
his talk was of the manifold works and devices of the Devil--who, as we
know, plays such an important part in all those old stories that one
can hardly imagine what has become of him _now_, when he seems to keep
so quietly in the background, unless he may perhaps have put on some
new dress which renders him unrecognizable. Now tell me, Ottmar, don't
you think such subjects of conversation well suited for a man in my
then state of health?"

"Don't condemn me unheard," crie