THE MAN. Going?... Farewell, then, among the rocks, behind which thou vanishest!... Whatever thou mayst be, delusion or truth, victory or ruin, I trust in thee, herald of fame, harbinger of glory! Spirit of the mighty Past, come to my aid! and even if thou hast already returned to the bosom of God, quit it--and come to me! Inspire me with the ancient heroism! Become in me, force, thought, action! Stooping to the ground, he turns up and throws aside a viper. Curses upon thee, loathsome reptile! Even as thou diest, crushed and writhing, and nature breathes no sigh for thy fate, so will the destroyers of the Past perish in the abyss of nothingness, leaving no trace, and awakening no regret. None of the countless clouds of heaven will pause one moment in their flight to look upon the thronging hosts of men now gathering to kill and slaughter! First they--then I-- Boundless vault of blue, so softly pouring round the earth! the earth is a sick child, gnashing her teeth, weeping, struggling, sobbing; but thou hearest her not, nor tremblest, flowing in silence ever gently on, calm in thine own infinity! Farewell forever, O mother nature! Henceforth I must wander among men! I must combat with my brethren! * * * * * A chamber. The Man. George. A Physician. THE MAN. No one has as yet been of the least service to him; my last hopes are placed in you. PHYSICIAN. You do me much honor. THE MAN. Tell me your opinion of the case. GEORGE. I can neither see you, my father, nor the gentleman to whom you speak. Dark or black webs float before my eyes, and again something like a snake seems to crawl across them. Sometimes a golden cloud stands before them, flies up, and then falls down upon them, and a rainbow springs out of it; but there is no pain--they never hurt me--I do not suffer, father. PHYSICIAN. Come here, George, in the shade. How old are you? He looks steadily into the eyes of the boy. THE MAN. He is fourteen years old. PHYSICIAN. Now turn your eyes directly to the light, to the window. THE MAN. What do you say, doctor? PHYSICIAN. The eyelids are beautifully formed, the white perfectly pure, the blue deep, the veins in good order, the muscles strong. To George. You may laugh at all this, George. You will be perfectly well; as well as I am. To the Man (aside). There is no hope. Look at the pupils yourself, count; there is not the least susceptibility to the light; there is a paralysis of the optic nerve. GEORGE. Everything looks to me as if covered with black clouds. THE MAN. Yes, they are open, blue, lifeless, dead! GEORGE. When I shut my eyelids I can see _more_ than when my eyes are open. PHYSICIAN. His mind is precocious; it is rapidly consuming his body. We must guard him against an attack of catalepsy. THE MAN (_leading the doctor aside_). Save him, doctor, and the half of my estate is yours! PHYSICIAN. A disorganization cannot be reorganized.