was rattling in his throat. His chest was squeezed together as if
it had been closed in a vice. The pupils of his eyes flickered
like gas-jets. His tongue beat the saliva into a lather, and he
sank--slowly--down--backward--into the chair--as if he were
drowning. And then--

ADOLPH. [In a whisper] Stop now!

GUSTAV. And then--Are you not feeling well?

ADOLPH. No.

GUSTAV. [Gets a glass of water for him] There: drink now. And
we'll talk of something else.

ADOLPH. [Feebly] Thank you! Please go on!

GUSTAV. Well--when he came to he couldn't remember anything at
all. He had simply lost consciousness. Has that ever happened to
you?

ADOLPH. Yes, I have had attacks of vertigo now and then, but my
physician says it's only anaemia.

GUSTAV. Well, that's the beginning of it, you know. But, believe
me, it will end in epilepsy if you don't take care of yourself.

ADOLPH. What can I do?

GUSTAV. To begin with, you will have to observe complete