It was about that time that I had a quarrel with my rude Proparszczyk. The physician, at his last visit, prescribed for my weakness and giddiness Hoffman's white drops; a small phial of these drops was left with the Proparszczyk, and I sent for it; the corporal brought it, and after I took a dose, he wished to return it, but I refused. “The physician,” said he “gave orders not to leave it in your hands, for it is a poison.” “The physician,” replied I, “could not say such a thing, and if he did he is a fool.” In short, the corporal insisted on having back the phial, and I persisted in refusing; at last he went out to report the fact to his officer, and immediately the latter entered my room, the violence of his passion having changed the paleness of his face to blue and green, and caused a nervous quivering of the lips. “The corporal,” said he, “has reported to me that you decline returning the phial.” “Yes, for I may want it every instant.” “That cannot be; you must give it back immediately.” “I won't.” “What! will you rebel here? I will employ
