I got a sort of feverish cold in April, and was confined to my bed, and I was very much surprised at getting a summons to the Tribunal. My doctor (Professor Liebman) arrived, and I said, "I wonder what I am wanted at the Tribunal for; I have not done anything wrong that I know of?" and he said, "I shall certainly write and say that you cannot come." Later in the day my door opened, and in marched a solemn procession of gentlemen in black, with pens and ink and papers. I was rather taken aback, and asked them "what they wanted." They then produced a letter in Italian, which purported to be, though it was very incorrect, a translation of a letter I had written to Mr. Arthur Evans in Herzegovina. They asked me what I knew about Mr. Evans. I said, "I know nothing but good of him; but why do you ask?" "Because," they said, "he is in prison for conspiring against the Austrian Empire." "Oh," I said, "what has he done?" They said, "You must know something about it, because you have written to warn him. What do you know?" I said, "I only know that I heard some of the officers here saying that he was meddling in what did not concern him, and that, if they could catch him off civilized ground, they would hang him up to the first tree, and as I know his wife and her family, and they are my own compatriots, I thought I would write and say to him, 'What are you doing? Whatever it is, leave it off, as you are incurring ill will in Austria by it.'" I _meant_ to be very kind, but I ought not to have done it, as it not only vexed Mrs. Evans, whom I liked very much, but unluckily, as the post was slow between Trieste and Herzegovina, it did not reach until after he had been put into political confinement, and consequently the authorities had opened it, read it, and had it translated, and had summoned me to give an account of myself. However, on my assuring them that I knew nothing but what I had heard from themselves, they were quite satisfied, and took their departure. It was now discovered by Professor Liebman that I had the germs of an internal complaint of which I am suffering at present, possibly resulting from my fall downstairs in Paris in 1879. I had noticed all this year that I had been getting weaker and weaker in the fencing-school, and sometimes used to turn faint, and Reich (my fencing-master) used to say, "Why, what is the matter with you? Your arms are getting so limp in using the broadsword." I did not know, but I could not keep up for long at a time. I think I went no more after that.