The two gentlemen went from the reception room across the hall, with its tessellated floor, up the wide stone steps, through lofty, airy passages.
They were met by several persons whom Oswald would not have taken for patients if Doctor Birkenhain had not told him so; they gave such sensible answers to the casual questions of the physician.
"This wing is for the slightly-affected patients," said Doctor Birkenhain; "as it is such fine weather most of them are in the garden or in the court-yard. How do you do, counsellor?"
"Thank you, doctor," replied an exceedingly corpulent, good-looking man, whom they met passing with a watering-pot in his hand, "thank you, I should be perfectly well, if----"
The counsellor cast a glance at Oswald, and then came quite close to the doctor, whispering something in his ear, of which Oswald could only catch the words, "bundle of hay"--"in my side." "Oh, that matters very little," replied Birkenhain, in a tone full of confidence, which sounded as if it must have been inspiring to the greatest hypochondriac; "we'll soon settle that." The patient gratefully shook hands with his physician and went on, evidently quite comforted and delighted with the probable victory over his imaginary ailment.
"I wish Berger's case were as easy as that man's," said Doctor Birkenhain, as they were walking down the long passage; "but pills and ointments have no effect on his complaint. Here we are; now you go to the end of the passage, and the last door to the left is Berger's room. I am very curious to hear what you will have to tell me. Will you dine with me to-morrow? I shall take great pleasure in presenting you to my wife. At three o'clock. Will you come? Au revoir, then!"
Doctor Birkenhain shook hands with Oswald and went into one of the rooms which they had passed. Oswald went alone to the end of the passage, full of the deep impression which the man who had just left him had made upon him, and at the same time very much troubled about the part which he was to play. He was to help Berger to recover his interest in life, and he had himself lost all such interest! Was he not of all men the least fitted for such a mission? And yet he had accepted it! He must fulfil it!
Oswald came to the door which had been pointed out to him. Upon the brown panel was something written in chalk, and evidently in Berger's hand:
"Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate."
Oswald shuddered as he read it. He remained standing undecided before the door, and it was some time before he could make up his mind to knock. He listened to hear if anything was stirring within; he heard nothing. At last he summoned courage and knocked with a strong hand. As no answer came, he knocked still louder; again no answer. A great fear overcame him; he hastily opened the door and entered the room.