"But, my dear friend, how do you know that this decoration belongs to the doctor?" she asked, with all the assurance of an experienced woman of the world. "I cannot believe that it does, because, with all the will in the world, I cannot see how it should. At all events, whatever is the state of the case, it will do him no good in our capital, where he is, as it were, dead. I will willingly investigate the affair, solely for your satisfaction——" She stopped; the door of the next room opened, and the dean's widow entered it to get something from her closet.
The councillor of medicine arose and gave the prescription to the Frau President. Then both passed through the room where the dean's widow was just closing the closet-door. Doctor von Bär would gladly have put an end to his anxiety by provoking an explanation by some facetious remark as he passed her; but the old lady made him an inclination so cool and dignified, so full of grave reserve, that he did not venture to address her.
In the invalid's apartment there was no better chance to satisfy his mind. The doctor had brought the glass globe of gold-fish from his aunt's room, and was busy arranging the apparatus of a little fountain attached to it; the maid was bringing fresh water to fill various deep plates on the tables and a bucket near the sick-bed,—all to moisten as much as possible the atmosphere of the room. Who could disturb a man thus given over to the performance of his duty by captious remarks with regard to outside affairs? And, besides, the councillor of medicine instantly felt relieved upon the subject. There must be some hidden and harmless explanation of the whole matter; for no man who had just been honoured by so rare a distinction could possibly conduct himself so quietly and unconsciously as the young physician.
Henriette was sitting propped up with pillows in bed; fever had set in. Removal to the villa was out of the question, however earnestly the Frau President might desire it. She was obliged to content herself with sending Henriette's maid to stay through the night, with everything that could make the sick-chamber "comfortable." Kitty's entreaty to be allowed to take charge of her sister during the night was set aside, not so much by the Frau President and Doctor von Bär as by Doctor Bruck, who was very decided in the matter. Tears rushed to the young girl's eyes as he refused to yield one jot of his opinion that the maid, acting under his directions, was all that was required. Accordingly, it was arranged that Flora and Kitty should remain until ten o'clock, and then give place to Nanni.
Flora maintained an impassive silence during this discussion. She was conscious, as was her grandmother, that she must not be outdone by Kitty in attention to her own sister in this illness, which, with the adventure in the wood, was likely to furnish talk for the capital the next day, and therefore she was satisfied to abide by the doctor's decision.
[CHAPTER XII.]
Soon after the departure of the Frau President and her friend, footmen and house-maids arrived from the villa, bringing all sorts of cushions, coverings, and furniture, which were noiselessly transferred to the sick-room. The simple but cosy apartment shortly wore the air of an auction-room: an embroidered screen before the shabby black stove, the gorgeous toilette set, shining apple-green satin arm-chairs,—how ridiculously unsuitable, as if blown hither by some unfavourable wind, they all looked within the faded, defaced walls!
Without a change of countenance, with all her own calm gentleness of manner, the dean's widow removed her despised belongings. Her eyes never once encountered those of the doctor, who stood, with folded arms, at a window, silently watching the alterations. Perhaps the old lady feared he might detect in her glance some trace of annoyance, and that must not be.
This invasion of accustomed elegance infused with fresh energy Flora's hitherto apathetic demeanour; she directed its arrangement,—put the green silk duvet upon Henriette's bed with her own hands, and sprinkled a whole bottle of cologne-water over the bare floor. Then she had a thick rug laid by the vacant window, and placed upon it an arm-chair, into which, as soon as the servants had left, she threw herself, crossing her little feet upon an embroidered footstool. It really looked as if she had fled to an oasis in the surrounding desert, she so gathered herself together, so coldly scrutinized everything outside of her carpeted corner. She had noticed, in the "ridiculously small" looking-glass enclosed in a brown frame, that her thin hair was disarranged. Therefore she had taken a little white lace fichu from her neck and tied it loosely over the dishevelled curls: the airy fabric crowned her charming head like a saintly halo. The dean's widow could not help gazing at her; she certainly was a wonderfully beautiful creature. For the first time she understood how, neither in his wild student days, nor upon the battle-field, had the doctor been able to forget this enchanting being, and her present strange conduct, her gloomy taciturnity, disappointing as it was, was but the natural effect of the terrible adventure of the day.
Meanwhile, the day drew to a close. The western skies were aflame, the wreaths of green trailing down from the hanging-baskets at the windows were tipped with gold, and the roses on the curtains looked like giant peonies, flooding the sick-room with fiery splendour.