Within about three paces of me he stopped, and passed his hand two or three times through the black and white masses of his hair. He had the air of trying to rouse himself from a mood of painful preoccupation. At length he spoke in a faint, unaccented tone, like a voice heard far off. "I want your sympathy," said he. "Have we met before?" I asked, rather taken aback. "I really don't remember--but I believe I've been half asleep, and am hardly awake yet." He shook his head slowly, his black eyes curiously perusing my face. "You have chosen an ill place to sleep in," he remarked after a pause. "Many a year have I sought repose there--in vain." "Indeed? Well, I came here quite by accident, and judging by the aspect of the place, I shouldn't have supposed it would have been often visited." "You are right, few come hither now; but as many as do so are liable to meet with me." I looked more narrowly at my queer companion, and all at once the thought struck me, the man is mad! Yes, it must be so. How otherwise could the strangeness of his appearance, behaviour, and conversation be accounted for? He did not look dangerous, probably he was incapable of doing harm, and therefore permitted to wander about as he liked. In the moral atmosphere of these ruins he was sensible of somewhat congenial to his own forlornness, and hence haunted them rather than any more cheerful spot. Certainly, this was an appropriate haunt for a madman--for one whose mind had fallen into that ugliest chaos which was once beauty and order. But I liked the spectacle of mental even less than that of material decay; and though the poor gentleman had asked me for my sympathy, I scarcely knew how to give it to him. By I know not what faculty of divination, he appeared to suspect what was passing in my mind. "I am not mad," he said quietly, but with a tremor of the finely-cut though irresolute lips. "I am not mad, I have passed beyond insanity. Let me sit down here and talk to you. Nay--do not rise! Recline as you were doing, and close your eyes if you will; I need only your ears." While speaking thus he passed behind me, and apparently seated himself at the foot of the oak-tree, outside of my range of vision. But no sooner was he out of plain sight, than I was seized with an odd fantasy that he had actually vanished into thin air, and that were I to look round, I should not find him. His voice only was left, and even that now seemed unearthly. Was it a human voice? and not rather the rustling of leaves and the gurgling of water, translated by my feverish imagination into weird speech? "You were dreaming," resumed the voice; "what dreams had you of the wheel?"