He was shouting now, that mad doctor, and seemed to have awakened by his cries the slumbering pain of all those around him with their ripped-open chests and sides, torn-out eyes and cut-off legs. The ward filled with a broad, rasping, crying groan, and from all sides pale, yellow, exhausted faces, some eyeless, some so monstrously mutilated that it seemed as if they had returned from hell, turned towards us. And they groaned and listened, and a black shapeless shadow, risen up from the earth, peeped in cautiously through the open door, while the mad doctor went on shouting, stretching out his arms. "Who said one must not kill, burn, or rob? We will kill and burn and rob. We, a joyous careless band of braves, we will destroy all; their buildings, universities and museums, and merry as children, full of fiery laughter, we will dance on the ruins. I will proclaim the madhouse our fatherland; all those that have not gone mad--our enemies and madmen; and when I, great, unconquerable and joyous, will begin to reign over the whole world, its sole lord and master, what a glad laugh will ring over the whole universe." "The red laugh!" cried I, interrupting him. "Help. Again I hear the red laugh!" "Friends!" continued the doctor, addressing himself to the groaning mutilated shadows. "Friends! we shall have a red moon and a red sun, and the animals will have a merry red coat, and we will skin all those that are too white--that are too white.... You have not tasted blood? It is slightly sticky and slightly warm, but it is red and has such a merry red laugh!..." FRAGMENT VII ... It was godless and unlawful. The red cross is respected by the whole world, as a thing sacred, and they saw that it was a train full of harmless wounded and not soldiers, and they ought to have warned us of the mine. The poor fellows, they were dreaming of home.... FRAGMENT VIII ... Around a samovar, around a real samovar, out of which the steam was rising as out of an engine--the glass on the lamp had even grown dim, there was so much steam. And the cups were the same, blue outside and white inside, very pretty little cups, a wedding present. My wife's sister gave them--she is a very kind and good woman. "Is it possible they are all whole?" asked I, incredulously, mixing the sugar in my glass with a clean silver spoon. "One was broken," said my wife, absently; she was holding the tap open just then and the water was running out easily and prettily. I laughed. "What's it about?" asked my brother. "Oh, nothing. Wheel me into the study just once more. You may as well trouble yourself for the sake of a hero. You idled away your time while I was away, but now that is over. I'll bring you to order," and I began singing, as a joke of course,--"My friends, we're bravely hurrying towards the foe...."