winning good and—? Involuntarily one asks for the moral sense of this fable. Where, when, on what planets, will living persons find an answer beyond the tomb? Immortality?—In the ocean of human acts perhaps a few moral atoms of the deeds of the dead survive, but that I, powerful, energetically self-conscious, where is it? And those atoms of acts are like the corpse of a sailor dropped down from a ship into the abyss of the sea. Where shall we look for them, and who will find them? Will God ever fish them out from those shoreless billows, and will He develop from them a new self-conscious being? "È bene trovato!" The bitterness of these thoughts settled now on the sleepy forehead of Augustinovich, but meanwhile the window-panes from black began to turn gray. It was dawning. In the chamber the light of the candle grew rosier gradually and fainter, objects began to issue from the shade. In the corridors were heard now the steps of the hospital servants. An hour later the doctor came in.
"How is the patient?" inquired he. "Ill," answered Augustinovich, abruptly.
The doctor thrust out his lower lip with importance, wrinkled his forehead, and felt the pulse of the sick man.
