It was not until they drew near the house, that Gunther asked:
"What ails the patient? What does she complain of?"
"She don't complain of anything. She's got a hot fever, and she has been coughing for a long time."
"Has she her perfect senses?"
"Just the same as ever; but Gundel, my daughter, says she sometimes calls out in her sleep: 'Victory!'"
"Just wait here," said Gunther, when they reached the house. "I'll send you something to eat and drink; but tell no one who sent you here."
Cornelia was sitting near the lamp and reading to her blind cousin. He had only told her of the terrors of the hailstorm; his heart-sufferings he had kept to himself. He had been sleeping nearly all day, and now felt refreshed. Cornelia was alarmed when she saw her father, but he soon quieted her. His medicine-chest and some well-sealed packages of refreshing and strengthening food, were soon in readiness, and were packed upon the mule. Gunther rode off, the little pitchman walking by his side. The face of the latter was scarcely visible, for his broad-brimmed hat had not yet recovered from the effects of yesterday's storm. It was not until they had left the town behind them, that Gunther asked:
"How far have we to go?"
"It takes three hours on foot, but on horseback it's a full hour more."
When they entered the forest, Gunther halted and said: