no word of my illness to my wife--swear it! Even if I am
unconscious--dead--swear that I shall not be taken to the villa.
Swear it! I cannot rest till I have your word."

"I swear it most willingly, my son," he answered, solemnly. "By all
I hold sacred, I will respect your wishes."

I was infinitely relieved--the safety of those I loved was assured--
and I thanked him by a mute gesture. I was too weak to say more. He
disappeared, and my brain wandered into a chaos of strange fancies.
Let me try to revolve these delusions. I plainly see the interior of
the common room where I lie. There is the timid innkeeper--he
polishes his glasses and bottles, casting ever and anon a scared
glance in my direction. Groups of men look in at the door, and,
seeing me, hurry away. I observe all this--I know where I am--yet I
am also climbing the steep passes of an Alpine gorge--the cold snow
is at my feet--I hear the rush and roar of a thousand torrents. A
crimson cloud floats above the summit of a white glacier--it parts
asunder gradually, and in its bright center a face smiles forth!
"Nina! my love, my wife, my soul!" I cry aloud. I stretch out my
arms--I clasp her!--bah! it is this good rogue of an innkeeper who
holds me in his musty embrace! I struggle with him fiercely--
pantingly.

"Fool!" I shriek in his ear. "Let me go to her--her lips pout for
kisses--let me go!"

Another man advances and seizes me; he and the innkeeper force me
back on the pillows--they overcome me, and the utter incapacity of a
terrible exhaustion steals away my strength. I cease to struggle.