During this little discussion Doctor Bontius came down-stairs with the burgomaster’s wife. He had heard the boy’s last words and asked sternly:
“Where did you get the stuff?”
With these words, he seized the hand of the lad, who did not venture to resist the stern man, took the little vial and printed directions from him and, after Adrian had curtly answered: “From Doctor Morpurgo!” continued angrily:
“The brew is good to be thrown away; only we must take care not to poison the fishes with it, and the thing cost half a florin. You’re a rich young man, Meister Adrian! If you have any superfluous capital again, you can lend it to me.”
These words spoiled the boy’s pleasure, but did not convince him, and he defiantly turned half away from the physician. Barbara understood what was passing in his mind, and whispered compassionately to the doctor and her sister-in-law:
“All his fair money to help the young lady.”
Maria instantly approached the disappointed child, drew his curly head towards her and silently kissed his forehead, while the doctor read the printed label, then without moving a muscle, said as gravely as ever:
“Morpurgo isn’t the worst of quacks, the remedy he prescribes here may do the young lady good after all.” Adrian had been nearer crying than laughing. Now he uttered a sigh of relief, but still clasped Maria’s hand firmly, as he again turned his face towards the doctor, listening intently while the latter continued:
“Two parts buckbeans, one part pepper-wort, and half a part valerian. The latter specially for women. Let it steep in boiling water and drink a cupful cold every morning and evening! Not bad—really not bad. You have found a good remedy, my worthy colleague.
“I had something else to say to you, Adrian. My boys are going to the English riders this evening, and would be glad to have you accompany them. You can begin with the decoction to-day.”