blue eyes, which gazed through gold-rimmed spectacles, was motionless and impenetrable. The doctor watched him.
"Why do you look at me so intently? You will not read that which is in my soul," said the patient, "but I can read yours clearly! Why do you do evil? Why did you gather this crowd of unfortunates, and why do you hold them here? To me it is all the same; I understand all, and am calm; but they? Why this torture? When man has attained that state when his soul harbors a great thought—a universal thought—to him 'tis immaterial where he lives or what he feels. Even to live, or not to live. . . . Is it not so?"
"Perhaps so," replied the doctor, sitting down on the stool in the corner of the room, that he might more easily observe the patient, who walked rapidly from one corner of the room to the other, dragging noisily his enormous horseskin slippers, and flaunting his cotton gown, decorated with wide, red stripes and large flowers. The assistant physician and the superintendent, both of whom accompanied the head physician, continued to stand at a distance, near the door.
"But I possess it!" exclaimed the patient.
