“Thank God! there he is safe,” said Rudolf, falling into a chair. “I have had many a hard piece of work in my life, but never one in which my heart was so deeply concerned. May I stay here until he regains consciousness?” he asked of Francis like a supplicant.
“I feel that it is impossible for you to leave at such a moment,” she answered; “but we must call in Rolf, and if he sees you here——”
“Oh, if he makes the slightest to do I’ll twist his neck about like a chicken’s.”
It occurred to me that the more simple and prudent plan would be for me to go and make the Captain acquainted with what had happened, and obtain his promise to keep silent and to pretend not to know anything about Rudolf’s presence. He was enjoying his after-dinner nap when I found him, and I was afraid he would have an attack of apoplexy when I told him about the coming of Rudolf. His anger seemed to make him forget the gravity of the General’s position. I endeavoured to make him understand that the accident might possibly be attributed to a fit of cold, caused by drinking May wine in the cool of the evening so shortly after the copious dinner of which the General had partaken; but he had made up his mind that Rudolf was the cause of the misfortune, and he asserted that his duty as a soldier and an officer was to have him forthwith arrested as a deserter.
It was only with the greatest difficulty that I could get this fixed idea out of his head. I succeeded, however, at length in proving to him that the duty which he owed to humanity far surpassed all others at present; that it would be an unheard-of cruelty to arrest the son now at the bedside of a father, dying, for all we knew; that even Francis herself had consented to his staying, and that we were in duty bound to cast a veil over the family secrets. Finally the inborn good-nature of Rolf triumphed, and we went together to the General’s room.
The doctor had just arrived. He considered the case serious, and said it would be necessary to bleed the patient. Fritz and Rolf were left to aid the doctor and undress the invalid. Meantime I led Francis into a cabinet where Rudolf had taken refuge and was breathlessly awaiting the doctor’s verdict.
As we had left the door ajar we heard the patient recover consciousness, and call for Francis in a strangely altered voice, and address questions to her in a frightened tone; which questions the doctor, not understanding, put down to delirium, though they made it clear enough to us that he had seen and recognized Rudolf, although he mentioned no names.
“If the patient is not kept strictly quiet, I fear it will turn to brain fever,” said the doctor on leaving.
“Would you like to see the person you referred to just now?” I asked the General in a whisper, as soon as we were alone.
“No, indeed! I know he is here; he must leave in peace, and at once, never more to appear before my eyes, or—I will curse him.”