as second and measuring the distance.
Doctor Wilhelm kept rising again and again from beneath the raging chaos
in his soul. Ten or twenty times he brought him a human embryo wrapped in
paper, and said:

"To live is good. Not to live is better."

Hans Fuellenberg had to leave his hiding-place and join in the gruesome,
grotesque dance to death. Sometimes it seemed as if a puff of burning air
swept all these figures into an oven to destroy them forever.

Something like the dizzy movement of the sea kept tossing up and down. He
was carried aloft--his consciousness left him. He sank deep down--again
his consciousness left him. He flew--he lost his sense of ponderosity.
High on the crest of this cosmic, immaterial swell, he suffered
constantly from nausea. In his lucid moments he said to himself:

"The ocean does not wish me to be saved. It kept me alive just to display
the full extent of its powers and draw me down from my security."

He had dreams of tremendous cosmic proportions, showing he had images of
a might and power far exceeding the sane, normal strength of conception,
with no precedent for them in experience. Even when the life-boat with
its small load of castaways, shrieking, praying, or unconscious, was
dancing on the great broad swells of the heavy, mineral ocean, Frederick
had had no such feeling of the microscopic minuteness of his personality.

At the end of the first week he recognised Miss Burns and began to
understand what she had done for him. He smiled with difficulty and made
signs with his hand lying limply on the bedspread.

It was not until the end of the second week, the twenty-sixth of March,
that the fever left him entirely. He spoke, slept, had vivid dreams. In a
tired voice and sometimes with a touch of humour, he told of the wild
things that had passed through his brain. He expressed desires, showed
gratitude, inquired for the farmer on whom he had operated, and smiled
when Peter told him the wound had healed promptly and the farmer had
driven out to bring some guinea-fowls for bouillon.

Miss Burns's management of the household was exemplary. Such considerate,
ever-ready ministrations as Frederick received do not fall to the lot of
many men. Physicians like Peter and his wife are not, of course, prone to
prudery. Neither was Miss Burns, with her strong arms and sculptor hands,
which were accustomed to modelling from life. Though her manner was calm
and composed, there was secret passio