The door was open, but no porter (concierge) to be seen; in the window there were religious books and tracts for sale. There was no notice put on the door to say when the patients might receive visits. Presently they saw the porter in the inner yard; he was an elderly man with a searching, solemn eye; he had spectacles on, but looked over the top of them and took them off directly he had taken in who it was.
"Are you the new doctor?"
"Yes."
Then he took off his hat too.
"Welcome!"
The patient he had been talking to crept on before them; he was pale and had a thick woollen scarf round his neck, even on that warm day; he kept at a distance and did not bow. The porter accompanied them.
In the hospital there was a suite of rooms on each side of a light and airy corridor, those to the front were large and those to the yard were small, both stories were built in the same way. The porter was not only porter, but he was also steward, and the oldest inspector the house had; he therefore felt called upon to introduce the other members of the household one by one as they met them. They were all respectable-looking people, both men and women; there were two deaconesses among the latter, and they seemed the pleasantest of them all.
The first thing Kallem intended to do was to do away with the old-established typhus-fever rooms, and to build a separate typhus-pavilion for winter use. The operating-room was very light, but there must at once be a new polished floor put in. The ventilating apparatus was most faulty. With the exception of these and a few minor drawbacks--such as the small windowpanes--it was a capital house, high rooms and roomy passages, and generally airy; altogether he was well pleased.
The beds were pretty well filled, considering the time of year; tubercular disease of the lungs, his special study, was represented by three individuals, two boys and a girl about ten years old, poor, thin, waxy-pale creatures, whom he looked forward to seeing in his American tent. The late owner of the infirmary, old Dr. Kule--an uncle of Ragni's former husband--was dead; Kallem had bought it very cheap, because just at that moment there was no one else who could entertain the idea of buying. Here he would be able to arrange himself and his time exactly according to his own wishes; he had great plans. The parish gave their contribution, and a committee, consisting of the district physician and one other doctor besides, had the supervision of it; but he was entirely his own master. They were both of them quite delighted with this first visit. They went back to their own home in excellent spirits, but dreadfully hungry, took a bite of something in the kitchen and a glass of wine; thought fit to drink an extra glass on account of the important event that they were breaking bread for the first time in their own house.
Everything in the drawing-room was topsy-turvy; but in spite of it Ragni made her way to the piano. She had often attempted translations from that foreign literature--it had been like her own for five or six years--especially translations of poetry. Slightly flushed with the wine, and just a little shy, she struck some chords--begging him not to stand before her--then again more chords, and with a small, gentle voice, she recited more than sang: