Then he pulled a brandy-flask, which held at least a quart, from his pocket, put his thumb against the place down to which he meant to empty it, drank, held the bottle against the light, and then, as he seemed to think that he had not done the whole of his duty, he took another good pull. After that he mounted his horse, which had stood quietly by him as if accustomed to such scenes, wished them a good evening, leaped once more across the ditch, and rode off at full gallop.
With Bruno everything turned into a passion. The glow of his imagination changed the fictions of poetry into men of flesh and blood. The death of Hector drew tears of sympathy and indignation from his eyes, and the moral disgust which he felt, when he witnessed an act of injustice or of cruelty, was so intense that it caused him a physical indisposition.
Thus, when Oswald the same night approached the bed of his favorite he found him, contrary to his usual habit, still wide awake. His face was paler than ordinarily, and large drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. Oswald was concerned, and learnt, after some hesitation on the boy's part, that the latter had concealed his sickness in order not to trouble his friend, and was now suffering great pain. Oswald was about to wake up everybody in the house and to send for a doctor, but Bruno begged him not to do so, because such a thing was always looked upon at the château as a very grave affair of state, and he disliked excessively to give so much trouble to others; besides, he confessed that the hubbub they made about the matter was apt to make his sickness only worse.
"Moreover," he said, "I am quite used to these attacks, and if you will be good enough to make me some tea, and to give me a few drops of the medicine which the doctor prescribed for me the other day,--the phial is on my desk,--you will see that I shall be right again directly."
Oswald hastened to bring him what he wanted. He gave the boy the medicine, made him drink his tea, arranged the pillows, brought another blanket, and did it all with that thoughtfulness and handiness, in which men of delicate feelings, even when they are not accustomed to sick-rooms, often far surpass professional nurses.
"It is almost a pleasure to be sick when one has you for a nurse," said Bruno, gratefully pressing his friend's hand.
"Hush! hush!" replied the latter; "now do me the favor and get rid of your pain."
"I will do my best," said the boy, smiling.
Oswald's good wishes were soon fulfilled. The cold drops on the patient's brow became warm, and kindly nature lulled him to sleep, in order to restore in silence and secret the disturbed equilibrium of his system. At first, the delicate narrow hand which Oswald held in his own would now and then twitch a little; then all became quiet, and the improvised physician congratulated himself on the good success of his treatment. But he probably had some fears of a relapse; for he quietly slipped his hand from that of the boy, went for an easy-chair to his own room, and then sat down at the head of the bed. He had screwed down the lamp, so that the unusual light should not disturb the sleeper, and thus he sat in the dark, watching the moonlight as it was slowly sinking on the wall through an opening in the curtain, and listened to the regular breathing of the boy until weariness overcame him also and he fell asleep.