Death dwelt in his confused sick brain as a figure that was invisible all but the hands. Suddenly, Oh so suddenly, it would stand near him, close by his side. And a horrible chill would stream forth from the dread form, and all the flowers, white with frost, would die, and the millions of swift little birds would fall frozen through the air, and he himself would be changed into a little heap of snow. The lawyer drew in his head, so that his thin gray beard pushed out above his scarf, and gazed timidly at Michael Petroff with his little mouse-like eyes and shivered. Michael Petroff looked at him in astonishment. "What is the matter, my dear fellow?" he drawled, smilingly. "Are you afraid! Why should you be, I wonder? I shall go at once to Dr. Maerz and explain to him what Engelhardt requires. From what I know of him, he will not delay, and so everything will be attended to. I would gladly place my own soul at your disposal. Friend Engelhardt, but I still need it myself---I have a mission to fulfil, you know--I am Napoleon, and I fight a battle every day, I am--" But here he paused suddenly and listened. "The Doctor is coming! Don't you hear him?" he whispered. "He will be here immediately--" Dr. Maerz had come into the ward. He could be heard speaking with some one in the corridor, and the three men in the shoemaker's room listened. The Doctor's voice was the only one which had the power to change the current of their thoughts and to give them hopes, great hopes, indefinite though they were. It affected them somewhat as a voice affects wanderers, who believe that they are lost in a solitary wilderness. And yet Dr. Maerz did not talk much, but he had become a master of the art of listening, and would pay attention for hours every day to the complaints, the lamentations, and the hundreds of requests of his patients. But a few words from him had the power to encourage, to comfort, to cheer and to influence the mood of his patients for the whole day. Suddenly the lawyer ceased to shiver, Michael Petroff began to laugh happily, and Engelhardt withdrew his gaze from the point in the ceiling and looked toward the half open door. He gazed so intently that his small bright eyes seemed to squint. "Listen! The Rajah is talking with him!" said Michael Petroff, holding up his finger for silence. "Nobody is watching you, my dear friend," said the Doctor's quiet voice. And a deep and almost gentler voice replied: "I heard the watchman walking back and forth before my door all night, Sir. And I also heard the drum when the watch was relieved." "My friend," answered the Doctor, "You must have been dreaming."