“Just so,” replied Paula. “Nothing can be more truly merciful than to render life bearable to such hapless beings....” “But still, you think,” interrupted the eager old man, “that this noble motive alone would hardly account for the old oddity’s riding his hobby so hard.--Well, you are right. From my earliest youth the structure of the bones in man and beast has captivated me exceedingly; and just as collectors of horns, when once they have a complete series of every variety of stag, roe, and gazelle, set to work with fresh zeal to find deformed or monstrous growths, so I have found pleasure in studying every kind of malformation and injury in the bones of men and beasts.” “And to remedy them,” added Philippus. “It has been his passion from childhood. “And the passion has grown upon me since I broke my own hip bone and know what it means,” the old man went on. “With the help of my fellow-student there, from a mere dilettante I became a practised surgeon; and, what is more, I am one of those who serve Esculapius at my own expense. However, there are accessory reasons for which I have chosen such strange companions: deformed slaves are cheap and besides that, certain investigations afford me inestimable and peculiar satisfaction. But this cannot interest a young girl.” “Indeed it does!” cried Paula. “So far as I have understood Philippus when he explains some details of natural history....” “Stay,” laughed Rufinus, “our friend will take good care not to explain this. He regards it as folly, and all he will admit is that no surgeon or student could wish for better, more willing, or more amusing house-mates than my cripples.” “They are grateful to you,” cried Paula. “Grateful?” asked the old man. “That is true sometimes, no doubt; still, gratitude is a tribute on which no wise man ever reckons. Now I have told you enough; for the sake of Philippus we will let the rest pass.” “No, no,” said Paula putting up entreating hands, and Rufinus answered gaily: “Who can refuse you anything? I will cut it short, but you must pay good heed.--Well then Man is the standard of all things. Do you understand that?” “Yes, I often hear you say so. Things you mean are only what they seem to us.” “To us, you say, because we--you and I and the rest of us here--are sound in body and mind. And we must regard all things--being God’s handiwork--as by nature sound and normal. Thus we are justified in requiring that man, who gives the standard for them shall, first and foremost, himself be sound and normal. Can a carpenter measure straight planks properly with a crooked or sloping rod?” “Certainly not.” “Then you will understand how I came to ask myself: ‘Do sickly, crippled, and deformed men measure things by a different standard to that of sound men? And might it not be a useful task to investigate how their estimates differ from ours?’” “And have your researches among your cripples led to any results?”