I mastered my repugnance, and raised the arm of the sick man. It was wasted and tremulous, the hand small and wiry. The pulse was rapid, fluttering and feverish, indicating intense nervous excitement. What was I to do? I considered. On one side stood the young Countess, anxiously awaiting an expression of my opinion; on the other, Sperver, trying to read my thoughts and following attentively my slightest movement. A painful restraint was thus imposed upon me.

However, I saw that no decided step could be undertaken as yet. I dropped the arm, and listened to the breathing. From time to time, something like a sob escaped the sick man's breast; then the respiration became normal again; then faster, and finally, labored. Some sort of nightmare oppressed him. But the cause!--this I must determine first, and I must confess it seemed hopeless enough. I turned round, sorely perplexed.

"Is there any hope, monsieur?" asked the young woman.

"Yesterday's crisis is drawing to a close, mademoiselle. We must seek to ward off the next attack."

"Is that a possible thing?"

I was about to reply in some scientific generalities, not daring to commit myself, when the distant sound of the Castle bell fell upon our ears.

"Strangers," said Sperver.

There was a moment of silence.

"Go and see who it is," said Odile, whose brow was shadowed with anxiety. "How can we be hospitable at such times? It is impossible."

Just then the door opened, and a yellow head and rosy cheeks appeared in the shadow, whispering, "The Baron Zimmer, accompanied by his servant, asks for shelter in the Castle. He has lost his way in the mountains."

"Very well, Gretchen," replied the Countess quietly; "go and tell Offenloch to attend to the wants of the strangers. Tell him to inform the Baron Zimmer that the Count is very ill, and that this alone prevents him from doing the honors of the house in person. Wake up our people, and see that he is properly waited on and that everything is suitably done."

It would be difficult to describe the well-born simplicity with which the young mistress of the Castle gave her orders, and I reflected that if an air of n.o.bility seems inherent in some families, it is certainly because the discharge of hospitable and charitable duties tends to elevate the character and enn.o.ble the soul.

All this pa.s.sed through my mind while I was admiring the gentle glance, the distinguished carriage, and the exquisitely cut features of Odile of Nideck,--that purity of outline only to be met with in the realms of aristocracy,--and I tried in vain to recall anything comparable to her in my recollection.

"Make haste, Gretchen! Don't keep the travellers waiting," said the young Countess.

"Yes, madame."

The servant departed, and I stood for a few moments unable to dispel the charm of my meditations. Odile turned and addressed me.

"You see, monsieur," she said with a sad smile, "we are not allowed to indulge our grief; we must ever divide ourselves between our feelings and the claims that others have upon us."

"That is too true, mademoiselle," I replied; "souls of the higher sort seem purposed to serve as a guide and promise to us weaker ones: the traveller who has lost his path, the sick man, and the starving pauper,--each has a claim upon them, for G.o.d has created them like the stars above us, for the happiness of all."

Odile lowered her deep-fringed eyelids, while Sperver pressed my hand.

After a moment, the Countess continued:

"Ah, monsieur, if you could only save my father!"

"As I have had the pleasure of telling you before, mademoiselle, yesterday's crisis is past; we must now endeavor to prevent its recurrence."

"Do you believe that this can be done?"

"With G.o.d's help, mademoiselle, it is not impossible. I must give the matter the most careful thought."

Odile, much agitated, moved with me to the door, and as I bowed myself out of the chamber, I fancied that I detected in her lovely face an expression of increased hope. Sperver and I crossed the antechamber, where a few servants were standing awaiting the orders of their mistress. We had just entered the corridor, when Gideon, who led the way, turned abruptly round, and resting his hands on my shoulders, said:

"Gaston, I am a man to be trusted; what is your opinion of the case?"

"There is nothing to be feared to-night."

"I know that; you said as much to the Countess. But to-morrow?"

"To-morrow?"

"Yes. Don't turn your head. I suppose you can't prevent a recurrence of the attack, but, frankly, do you think he will die of it?"

"He may, but I don't antic.i.p.ate it."

"Ah," cried the good fellow joyfully; "that means you are sure he won't!"

Thrusting his arm through mine, he pulled me into the gallery. We had hardly set foot in it when the Baron Zimmer and his groom appeared, preceded by Sebalt, who carried a flaming torch in his hand. They were on their way to their chambers, and these two figures, with their cloaks flung over their shoulders, their knee-boots of soft Hungarian leather, their waists tightly b.u.t.toned in, their long green tunics ornamented with frogs and twisted fringes of silk and gold, their bearskin caps drawn down over their ears, and their long hunting-knives stuck in their belts, looked strangely picturesque in the white light of the dripping pine torch.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Sperver, "if I am not greatly mistaken, those are our Tubingen friends. They were close at our heels, you see."

"You are right; they are the same people! I remember the younger one by his slim figure; he has the profile of an eagle, and wears his mustache like the astrologer-general Wallenstein."

They disappeared beneath a side triforium.

Gideon took a torch from the wall, and guided me through a labyrinth of corridors, pa.s.sageways, and high, low, turret-shaped, and winding entries. I thought he would never have done.

"Here is the hall of the Margraves," he said; "and this is the portrait gallery. There is the chapel, where no ma.s.s has been said since Louis the Bald became a Protestant. Next comes the armory."

These facts possessed but little interest for me. After having reached the end of the gallery, we had to descend a staircase that seemed interminable; at last, thank Heaven! we halted before a low, ma.s.sive door. Sperver drew an enormous key from his pocket, and handing me the torch, said, "Mind the light; be careful!"

At the same time, he pushed open the door, and the cold outside air rushed into the pa.s.sageway. The flame leaped back and sent a shower of sparks in all directions. I fancied myself standing on the edge of an abyss, and I recoiled instinctively.

"Ha, Ha!" laughed the steward, his mouth parted in a broad grin, "any one would think you were afraid, Gaston. Come on! We are now in the little court that leads from the Castle to the old tower."

The good fellow moved on by way of example. The snow lay deep in this courtyard, and the wind swept it with terrific gusts. Had any one seen our flaring torch upon the plain, he would have asked himself, "What are they doing up there in the clouds? Why are they prowling about at this time of night?"

"Perhaps the old witch is looking up at us," I thought, and the idea made me shudder. I drew closer the folds of my cloak, and holding my hat on with the other hand, I ran after Sperver, who held his light above his head to show me the path, and moved along with rapid strides.

We rushed into the tower, and then into Hugh's Chamber, where a bright fire greeted us with cheerful cracklings. How grateful it was to be sheltered by the thick walls! I had stopped while Sperver closed the door, and contemplating this ancient abode, I cried, "Thank G.o.d, we shall have a moment to rest now!"

"And before an excellent table," added Gideon. "Just look at that,--the leg of a kid, two roasted pheasants, a blue-backed pike, his mouth stuffed with parsley; cold meats and hot wines is what I like. I have no fault to find with Kasper; he has carried out my orders to the letter!"

Gideon spoke truly,--"cold meats and hot wines;" for before the fire stood a generous array of bottles, being submitted to the gentle influence of the heat. The sight of this repast served to whet my already considerable appet.i.te; but Sperver, who understood the art of being comfortable, said to me:

"Don't be in too great a hurry, Gaston! Let's take things easily! We have time enough; the pheasants won't fly away, and as for the pike, I'll warrant he cares no more about swimming. In the first place, having been eight hours in the saddle, your boots must hurt you, so off with them. Sit down there and put your boot between my knees. I've got that one; let's have the other. There you are. Now put your feet in these slippers, take off your cloak, and throw this dressing-gown over you.

Now you'll do!"

Having gone through a similar course of preparation, he cried in a hearty tone:

"Now, Gaston, fall to! You do your share and I'll do mine, and remember well the German proverb: 'If Beelzebub created thirst, surely the Lord made wine to quench it.'"