Problematic Characters Part 75

"That is exactly my case," said a third; "I do not know what it can be, but the ball at Barnewitz was a good deal merrier."

"What it can be?" said Breesen. "Well, I should think that was clear enough. The old baron looks like a wet chicken in the rain; the old baroness like a dethroned Hecuba--isn't it Hecuba? Felix quarrels with everybody who comes near him, and Miss Helen has not said three words all the evening. And you expect people to enjoy themselves? I feel as if it were a funeral."

"Well, there is a sick man at all events," said Pluggen; "the old baron just told me: Bruno has been sick in bed since yesterday."

"Ah, I suppose that is the reason why Doctor Stein has not come down?"

said Count Grieben; "I thought he was correcting exercises, perhaps, and would come down after a while, ha, ha, ha!"

"Hush, Grieben," said Hans Pluggen; "the other day you spoke very differently about the doctor."

"I said he was a consummate fool, whom I would enlighten on the subject of his position, and I say so again."

"Why, that is word for word what Felix was saying just now; the doctor seems to be a great favorite with the gentlemen."

"He is all the more liked by the ladies," observed Nadelitz, ironically.

"Yes, indeed," added Breesen; "he is said to have made three sisters at once unhappy at the ball the other day."

"At least they have not cried their eyes out, as they say Miss Emily has done," replied Nadelitz, annoyed by Breesen's allusion to his three sisters.

"You must not say such things!" cried Breesen, angrily.

"What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."

"I called no names."

"Because everybody knew idiom you meant."

"But, gentlemen, _tant de bruit pour une omelette_!" said Pluggen. "I wonder if you are going to quarrel about that man? why, that would be the very way to make people believe that he is a favorite with the ladies."

"Do you know the last news?" said Cloten, suddenly pus.h.i.+ng his blonde moustache into the group.

"Well?"

"Just imagine that Stein--but hush, there is Grenwitz--not a word, I pray you!"

"Well, gentlemen!" said Felix, "will you please form a cotillon? I have already twice given notice!"

Felix said this in a somewhat irritated tone of voice. His face, generally pale, was deep red. He had evidently taken a good deal of wine.

When the dance was over the same gentlemen, whose conversation Felix had interrupted, met once more as if by agreement.

"Well, where is Cloten with his last piece of news?" asked Sylow.

"Here," said Cloten, coming up. "Just imagine this Stein--we are quite _entre nous_ here?"

"Oh yes! Go on!"

"Has the impudence--well, guess! to fall in love with whom?"

"Ah, Cloten, you are unbearable! Are you going to tell us or not?"

"With Helen Grenwitz!" said Cloten, in a hollow voice.

"Well, not so bad!" said Sylow.

"That is just like the fellow," added Grieben.

"_Hinc illae lacrimae!_" laughed Breesen, who had retained a few Latin phrases from his school-days.

"And the best of it is," continued Cloten, "Miss Helen is by no means averse; _au contraire_, she is head over ears in love with him. Now, is not that charming?"

"Who on earth has made you believe that b.l.o.o.d.y story?" asked Breesen.

"I have it from very good authority," replied Cloten, with a significative wink of the eye towards that part of the room where Emily was standing in conversation with Helen.

"Hm, hm!" said Breesen.

"The story is not improbable," remarked Sylow. "That explains the deep melancholy of all the Grenwitz family; they look like mutes."

"Did not I always say there was something the matter tonight?" remarked Breesen, again. "I am quite glad now I did not become more intimate with the fellow; at first, I confess, I liked him very well. The man has really something very winning about him."

"He is a famous shot!" said Sylow, meditatively.

"Famous or not famous!" said Cloten, "I verily believe you give him a wide berth, gentlemen, because he is a tolerably good shot. No, gentlemen, that will not do, really, that will not do! I propose that we make amends for our first blunder and treat the man, if he should ever show himself again among us, as he deserves--with the utmost contempt."

"'Pon honor!" said Grieben, "Cloten, is right I shall make the fellow acquainted with my hunting-whip."

"It is a pity he is not here, so that you could carry out your threat at once!" said Breesen, ironically.

"_Quand on parle du loup_," said Sylow; "there he is! And his Pylades, Oldenburg, as a matter of course, by his side."

The open folding-doors were really just then showing Oldenburg and Oswald in the adjoining room. They conversed for a few minutes with each other; then Oldenburg entered the ball-room, while Oswald was held back by the old baron.

CHAPTER XX.

Oswald had spent nearly the whole day by Bruno's bedside after he had returned from his memorable interview with Helen. He had tried to forget himself while nursing his dear patient.

Bruno himself forgot his pain when he heard that Oswald had seen Helen and given her the letter; he was so happy he did not even notice Oswald's pale face and disturbed manner.

"Now all is right again," he said; "now she knows how she stands. Now they cannot hurt her any more, for now she is forewarned. Oh, that thought makes me feel quite well again."

Unfortunately, he was far from being well. The pain in his side returned after a few minutes with increased violence. Oswald hoped the doctor would certainly keep his promise and return in the course of the forenoon. But the forenoon pa.s.sed and no doctor came. Bruno's condition did not grow worse, but neither did it mend, and Oswald knew too little of medicine to be aware that a condition which does not improve grows worse. However, when noon came without bringing the doctor, he did not rest till a messenger on horseback had been sent to town. The man brought back the lotion which the doctor had himself ordered at the drug-store, but reported that the doctor was not in town, and that Doctor Braun was not expected back till nightfall. He had been at the house of the latter, and left word to send the doctor as soon as he should return. Oswald felt very grateful to the considerate man, who seemed to take a warm interest in Bruno's sickness. He breathed more freely when he heard of Doctor Braun's coming, for he had great confidence in him. In the mean time, however, he did not neglect the means prescribed by the other physician; but it had so little effect that Bruno at last begged not to be troubled any more with the useless remedy. Thus the long, long hours pa.s.sed one after another with a weariness which only the sick man knows, who tosses restlessly on his couch, and the friend who sits, his heart full of unutterable, and, alas! helpless anxiety, by his bedside, waiting for the doctor who does not come, or a symptom of change which never appears.

The old baron sent several times to inquire how Bruno was, and in the afternoon he came up stairs himself. He thanked Oswald with great cordiality for his kindness, patted Bruno on his hot cheeks, and promised to give him the horse he had long wished for as soon as he should be well again.