lind to the agitation which
shook, which almost convulsed, the Syndic's meagre frame. "The disease?
Is it not that which men call the Scholar's? Is it not that? But I know
it is."

Basterga with something of astonishment in his face inclined his head.

"And I have that disease! I!" the Syndic cried, standing before him a
piteous figure. He raised his hands above his head in a gesture which
challenged the compassion of gods and men. "I! In two years----" His
voice failed, he could not go on.

"Believe me, Messer Blondel," Basterga answered after a long and
sorrowful pause, "I am grieved. Deeply grieved," he continued in a tone
of feeling, "to hear this. Do the physicians give no hope?"

"Sons of the Horse-Leech!" the Syndic cried, a new passion shaking him
in its turn. "They give me two years! Two years! And it may be less.
Less!" he cried, raising his voice. "I, who go to and fro here and
there, like other men with no mark upon me! I, who walk the streets in
sunshine and rain like other men! Yet, for them the sky is bright, and
they have years to live. For me, one more summer, and--night! Two more
years at the most--and night! And I, but fifty-eight!"

The big man looked at him with eyes of compassion. "It may be," he said,
after a pause, "that the physicians are wrong, Messer Blondel. I have
known such a case."

"They are, they shall be wrong!" Blondel replied. "For you will give me
your remedy! It was God led me here to-day, it was God put it in your
heart to tell me this. You will give me your remedy and I shall live!
You will, will you not? Man, you can pity!" And joining his hands he
made as if he would kneel at the other's feet. "You can pity, and you
will?"

"Alas, alas," Basterga replied, much and strongly moved. "I cannot."

"Cannot?"

"Cannot."

The Syndic glared at him. "Why?" he cried, "Why not? If I give you----"

"If you were to give me the half of your fortune," Basterga answered
solemnly, "it were useless! I myself have the first symptoms of the
disease."

"You?"

"Yes, I."

The Syndic fell back in his chair. A groan broke from him that bore
witness at once to the bitterness of his soul and the finality of the
argument. He seemed in a moment shrunk to half his size. In a moment
disease and the shadow of death clouded his features; his cheeks were
leaden; his eyes, without light or understanding, conveyed no meaning to
his brain. "You, too!" he muttered mechanically. "You, too!"

"Yes