at last, of fruitless efforts, I took all the money
which Camillus had in his lodging; I sold
his goods: I left Prague for ever."

Some of the party, in the course of this
narrative, had fallen asleep, some had filled
fresh pipes; and Rupert took the narrator
by the wrist, and felt his pulse.

' Herr Camillus," he said, " you sleep too
little; you are feverish. I advise you to leave
the poor sufferer in the next room to his
pains, and betake yourself to bed." But,
hark! a scream; the patient is near his end.

They all hurried along the passage. I
accompanied them, but had not courage to
enter the room. I heard enough: groans,
shrieks, broken exclamations, in which
the consciousness of some dreadful crime
pierced through the bodily sufferings—and,
at last, and all of a sudden, there was
deep silence. It fell like a blow upon my
ear after it was so thrilled with the hideous
sound. In a minute or two the party came
into the gallery, and Rupert carefully closed
the door.

"Another tumbler," he said, " will enable
us to talk over the scene, and the night is
dreadful."

Snow and sleet dashed against the windows
as we came along the passage, and the wind
howled loudly outside. Nobody could resist
the invitation, and we resumed our seats
round the stove; and, by the light of the now
expiring candle, made ourselves a fresh
mixture and lighted our pipes. The scene had
been so appalling that for a while it silenced
even those practised despisers of death and
pain.

Camillus spoke first. He was excited, and
still bore malice at the incredulity or apathy
with which his story had been received.

"The man in the next room must have
been guilty of some great offence," he said.

"Perhaps he murdered some friend who
had paid attention to his wife," replied a
youth, who had not joined in the conversation
before, and who took this opportunity of
showing what he thought of the narrative.

"You, too! " exclaimed Camillus; " but
you are all beneath my notice—yet, for my
own satisfaction, I will give you proof. I
will fill the limbs of that wretched being with
new blood and his heart with life. Wrap
me in a cloak, cover up my head, keep
silence for ten minutes, and call me impostor
if you see not what I have promised."

He lay down upon Rupert's bed at the
end of the room. We laid a pilot's heavy
cloak over his body, and concealed his head
and face beneath a fur jacket. Rupert
touched his forehead when these preparations
were completed, implying he was either mad
or drunk, and we resumed our places. There
was dead silence among us all. The simmering
of the kettle was the only sound
within the room, and we listened, in the
growing darkness, to the gusts of snowy wind
outside with the unpleasant knowledge that
we had to encounter the horrors of cold and
storm on our way through the empty streets.
When a few minutes had passed we found our
constrained taciturnity very irksome; and,
once or twice, some of us went towards the
bed on tiptoe to see whether Camillus had
not fallen asleep. There was no means of
finding this out, and at last our impatience
was growing irrepressible, when suddenly we
were startled by hearing a loud knocking at
the door at the farther end of the passage.
Violent attempts were made to turn the
handle; and, finally, a dash against the
woodwork sent it flying from its hinges. There
was nobody in that end of the building, for
Rupert had shut and locked the door of
communication with the rest of the hospital
before he left the chamber where the man
had died. Now we heard the rapid pit-pat
of naked feet on the wooden floor of the gallery;
compressed shrieks accompanied the
approaching visitor; and, at last, gazing into
the room with wild and horror-struck eyes,
we saw the face of the wounded man—of the
man who had so recently expired! He had
nothing on but a shirt; and, through the open
frill, we saw the dreadful wounds.

"Save me! save me! " he said, " the pain
is intolerable. I knew not what I was doing
when I vivified this place of torture."

He rushed wildly to the bed where Camillus
had lain down, tossed away the jacket
and cloak with frantic gesture, and laid his
hand upon the shoulder of the recumbent
figure. It sank beneath his touch—the coat
contracted as if the sleeves were empty—the
whole body became depressed—and the
wretched man turned upon us a countenance
so writhing with despair that it never will
depart from my recollection.

"I should have thought of this," he said;
"the true Camillus has been dead for years,
and these are but the remains of his skeleton.
And this is my perpetual prison-house! " he
cried; " this agony of pain!"

He fell upon the floor, and for a while the
nerves of Rupert and the others were
completely shattered. As for me, I sat and
looked on the dreadful scene like a person in
a dream. I was too horrified even to tremble;
but the students soon recovered their force.
They raised the sufferer and bore him between
their arms through the long gallery once
more. The groans gradually subsided as the
distance increased, and at last ceased entirely.
For a quarter of an hour I waited impatiently
for the return of my friends. At last Rupert
came in, subdued and sobered.

'' The others have gone," he said, " by the
main staircase. It is an awkward business,
and I caution you not to mention what you
have seen. The man is dead at last, and the
authorities will suppose that Camillus has
left the town."

I have very little to add, as I left Germany
in a few weeks. I will only say that officers