DOCTOR CLAUDIUS

A True Story

BY F. MARION CRAWFORD

Author OF "MR. ISAACS"

London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1883

Dedicated

TO

MY DEAR FRIENDS

THE COUNTESS MARGARET AND
CLAUDIUS, PH.D.

CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.

DOCTOR CLAUDIUS.

CHAPTER I.

"I believe I am old," said the Doctor, pushing hisstraight-backed wooden chair from the table, andturning from his books to look out of his smallwindow. "Yes, I am certainly very old," he saidagain, rapping absently on the arm of the chair withthe pen he held. But the fingers that held theinstrument were neither thin nor withered, and therewas no trembling in the careless motion of the hand.The flaxen hair, long and tangled, was thick on themassive head, and the broad shoulders were flat andsquare across. Whatever Dr. Claudius might say ofhimself, he certainly did not look old.

And yet he said to himself that he was, and heprobably knew. He said to himself, as he had saidevery day for many long months, that this was thesecret of the difference he felt between his life and thelife of his companions—such companions as he had,between his thoughts and their thoughts, between hisways and their ways. Of late the fancy had gaineda stronger hold on his imagination, excited by solitudeand an undue consumption of the midnight oil, andas he turned his face to the evening light, an observer,had there been one, might have felt half inclined toagree with him. His face was pale, and the highaquiline nose looked drawn. Moreover, the tangledhair and beard contrasted strangely with his broad,spotless collar, and his dressing-gown of sober black.The long habit of neatness in dress survived any smallvanity of personal looks.

He rose, and throwing the pen impatiently on thetable, went to the little window and looked out. Hisshoulders overlapped the opening on both sides as hethrust his yellow head out into the evening sunshine,and Master Simpelmayer, the shoemaker down in thestreet, glanced up, and seeing that the Herr Doctorwas taking his evening sniff of the Neckar breeze, laiddown his awl and w

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