The loud, clear sound of the bell was heard once more. "That's the other one," said the soldier; and the woman left the room with her quiet, shuffling steps.
The two stretcher-bearers now began to undress Klitzing with their practised hands, and the clerk was soon lying beneath the silken coverlet, the royal crown over his head. Then one of the men asked: "What shall we do now?" and the other answered: "Well, we'd better go back to the ambulance waggon, anyhow. The doctor will have arrived by this time. You can stop here," he said to Vogt, and they left the two friends alone.
Vogt had been standing still in the middle of the room, his head feeling quite clear again; but suddenly once more all became dark before his eyes, and he had to sit down on one of the huge armchairs that stood against the wall. Was this not all a bad dream? There on the white pillow lay Klitzing, still unconscious, looking more dead than alive. Vogt went and knelt down beside him, and pressed his hot face against the cool silk of the coverlet. Would his faithful friend never wake again, not even for a moment, so that he might thank him? But Klitzing's eyelids remained closed, and there was no movement of the body, only the rapid, stertorous breathing.
The shrill sound of the bell broke the silence for the third time, and immediately after the senior staff-surgeon, Andreae, entered the room, followed by Dr. Rademacher and a hospital orderly. He gave a rapid glance of surprise at the unusual surroundings, and went at once to the bed.
Vogt had risen at his entrance. Andreae nodded to him, and pointing to Klitzing, asked: "Has he never recovered consciousness?"
"No, sir."
The medical-officer then bent his head to the injured man's chest, and listened to his breathing for some time. Finally he felt his pulse. The hand fell back as if lifeless upon the coverlet.
"Unfortunately you are right," he said to Rademacher; and as the other looked questioningly at him he added, shrugging his shoulders, "Nothing can be done."
So saying he went up to Vogt, and laid his hand kindly upon the young man's arm: "Dr. Rademacher has told me," he said, "how the poor fellow sacrificed himself for your sake. It grieves me very much to have to say it, but I cannot hide the truth from you. Your friend has indeed given his life for yours; he has but a short time to live."
Vogt remained fixed in the stiff soldierly attitude he had assumed; otherwise he felt he would have fallen to the ground. "Then, sir," he stammered, "will he never wake up again?"