As he did not find him in his room, and presumed he was with Bruno, from whose room a light fell through the half-open door, he went softly across and found Oswald bending over the boy's bed.
"How is he?" he asked.
"I am afraid he is very ill," replied Oswald, looking up; "his sleep is very restless, and his pulse galloping furiously."
"Let me see," said Oldenburg; "I know something of these things."
"He is indeed very ill," he continued, after a short pause. "How long has this been so, and how did it come about?"
Oswald gave him, in a few short words, an account of Bruno's case.
"And the pain had entirely left him an hour ago?" asked Oldenburg.
"Yes, almost entirely----"
"Then you must be prepared for the worst I presume he has received a serious internal injury, and now mortification has set in. One of us must go for the doctor."--He looked at his watch. "It is ten; I was going to return home before supper. My Almansor stands saddled at the door. Do you go to town. I am perhaps of more use here, now, than you. You have bright moonlight. The road is good. It is a little over two miles to town. You can be there in ten minutes. Pull off your dress coat and put on an overcoat. There! You will not want a whip or spurs. Almansor is quite fresh. Now, don't spare him!"
The baron had helped Oswald to put on his coat, and placed his hat on his head. Oswald submitted to it all. He came to himself only when he was on Almansor's back, when the night-wind was whistling past his ears, and houses and trees, hedges and fields, and gardens on both sides were gliding by him spectre-like in the pale moonlight.