Winterfeld made no reply. He leaned forward on the veranda railings, and looked out at the lake. The doctor laid his hand on his shoulder.
"George, does the old wound still bleed?"
George turned round. In the sorrowful eyes which met his, he recognised a kindred spirit.
"There are wounds which never close," he replied. "I cannot, perhaps, make such passionate demonstration of my feelings as some, but when I once give myself heart and soul, my attachment knows no change. I could not put it from me, even if I would."
"Have you seen Gabrielle lately?" asked Brunnow, after a pause.
"Yes, too often for my peace. I am now constantly thrown into the society which she frequents, and in the capital unexpected meetings are almost inevitable. I come upon her sometimes in the midst of a brilliant assembly, and we are both forced calmly to face the situation, though we would gladly fly from each other, were it possible. It would have been better for me, had I never seen her since the day I lost her. These constant meetings stir up the memories of the past within me, and rob me of my composure and self-command. I suffer horribly under it, I assure you."
"So it was chance alone that directed your steps here? It is as I suspected."
Winterfeld looked at the Doctor in astonishment.
"I have explained to you that I came to Switzerland on an official mission, and wished to take you and Max by surprise."
"Max has not told you then that the ladies von Harder are here?"