"Bruno, Bruno, what does that mean?" called out Oswald, frightened by the boy's passionate tenderness.
"I thought you had ceased to love me," sobbed Bruno; "and look here, Oswald, if you cease loving me, I'll die."
The pale, death-like image, of which Oswald had dreamt so fearfully in his feverish excitement, reappeared before his mind's eye and gave a terrible meaning to the passionate words of the boy. Speechless with emotion, he drew the sobbing boy to his heart, and repeated within himself the vow to be a brother to the poor forsaken boy. Thus they stood in close embrace ... Red evening lights were playing in the tops of the pine-trees--the soft plaintive song of a little bird came from the forest--a sweet, solemn moment.
Suddenly hideous sounds fell upon their ear; they came from near by; loud threatening voices of men who seemed to be angrily disputing--scolding, cursing--then for a moment deep silence, and finally the loud cry: "Great God! Help! help! Is no one near! Here!"
Oswald and Bruno, who had listened for a moment breathlessly, rushed at full speed towards the place from which the cries came. They reached a place close to the forest, where people had been cutting wood, and here and there cords of wood were piled up in long rows. By the side of a four-horse wagon a man was lying on the ground, who kicked with hands and feet, while another man was bending over him, either to calm or to ill-treat him--they could not distinguish which! As they approached the latter rose--it was the steward, Wrampe--and cried: "Quick, doctor, for God's sake! The fellow is dying before my eyes."
The appearance of the man who lay on the ground was indeed fearful in the extreme. His face was distorted, the eyes rigid, so as to show only the white, foam on his lips, his hands closed, the body in spasms; Oswald could hardly recognize the gigantic servant who had excited Bruno's anger by his cruelty towards the horses.
Oswald had knelt down by his side; he wiped the foam from his mouth, he loosened his stiff cravat, and tried to make him lie easier.
"Is there nothing to put under his head?" he called to the steward, whose red-bearded face, full of helpless anxiety, looked inexpressibly foolish.
"Under his head? under his head? here!" and he pulled off his coat and put it as a cushion under the man's head.
"Is there no water near by?" asked Oswald again.