After Delmar had ordered the carriage for Bertram, he walked slowly along the village street towards Dr. Putzer's. The nearer he came to the house the more he lingered; never had he experienced such a dread as possessed him at thought of the coming interview which would decide his fate.
But he was ashamed of what seemed to him cowardice, and as he paused for an instant at the small grated gate opening into the doctor's garden he braced himself to meet his fate, reflecting that no delay would postpone the inevitable, and then walked quickly through the garden to the house-door.
Dr. Atzinger received him. "You have been long in coming, Herr Delmar," he said. "Our patient has been impatiently awaiting you. If I had yielded to his wishes you would have seen him some days ago; but even now, I confess frankly, I should have liked to postpone this interview. I think him far too weak for any agitation of mind, and I have yielded to him in this instance only because I feared more from the effect of his restless impatience than from the conversation with you, which he evidently considers as of the first importance. Unfortunately I cannot be present at this interview. He has asked to see you alone, and I must therefore entreat you to use extreme caution, remembering that any over-excitement on his part is certain death. Pray do all you can to soothe him."
Paul willingly promised all that was asked of him. He felt no irritation towards Putzer, who had been but the tool of Herr von Heydeck.
Atzinger conducted him to the door of the doctor's bedroom, saying as he opened it, "Here is the man you so wish to see; now remember, my dear friend, to send him away as you promised, as soon as you feel exhausted."
"Yes, yes; tell him to come in," was the reply, in feeble tones.
Delmar entered, and Dr. Atzinger left him alone with the patient.
The room was large and sunny, and supplied with every comfort that could be procured in a retired Tyrolean village. The sick man's bed was so placed that as he lay with his face turned to the window he had a full view of the steep rock crowned by Castle Reifenstein.
Upon Paul's entrance the invalid raised himself into a half-sitting posture and turned his face full towards his visitor. "I have been longing for you for many days, Herr Delmar," he said, in a faint, scarce audible voice. "You are come at last, and I thank you. I was afraid I should never see you again."
Was this Dr. Putzer? Delmar never could have believed it from the evidence of his senses. There was absolutely no resemblance between the wine-flushed bloated countenance which Paul remembered and this ashy-pale flabby face, save for the light disordered hair that fell on either side of it. And just as little did the invalid's weak gentle voice resemble Dr. Putzer's hoarse brutal tones.