“Then come and sit down over here, my lad,” said the doctor, quietly; and he helped his wondering patient to a table close to where the bandsmen were seated.
“Here, one of you,” he said, sharply, “fetch a plate of that soup, and some bread;” and, as the dinner went on, the doctor stayed and saw that the patient took the medicine, which he followed with half a glass more wine.
“You will not feel it now,” he said, kindly. “Here, Wilkins, keep an eye upon him, will you, while I go back to the table? He is not to leave until I have seen him again.”
“Very good, sir,” said a pale little man in spectacles, who was evidently the leader of the band; and when the doctor went to his place, leaving his patient seated at the side-table, feeling as if he were in a dream, Wilkins carried out his orders with military precision; for, every time a piece was played, he conducted in regular musical fashion, flourishing a little ebony baton, and turning over the leaves of the book before him on the stand, but never once glancing at the notes, his eyes, glimmering through his glasses, being fixed upon the lad, to whom the scene appeared more dreamlike than ever, and his head grew confused, with familiar airs buzzing in one ear and the loud conversation in the other.
And this went on till the last piece upon the band programme of the evening had been finished amid thin clouds of smoke. Then the men began to place their instruments in their cases and green baize bags, after the different brass crooks had been drained and blown through, while a boy gathered together the music; and Richard started out of his dream, feeling better, and knowing that he must go.
At that moment he became conscious that the bandmaster was standing stiffly close by, still keeping an eye upon him, and removing his military cap, revealing a shiny billiard-ball-like head, which he began to polish softly with a silk handkerchief.
Richard, in his nervous state, felt worried and annoyed by this persistent gaze; but he bore it till he could bear it no longer, for the man stared as if he were some street beggar he had to watch for fear of his meddling with the plate.
“I beg your pardon—” began the lad; but he was interrupted by steps behind him, and the doctor cried—
“Well, sir—better?”
Richard started up and faced round, to find that the keen eyes of the colonel were also fixed upon him, looking as if their owner was waiting to hear what he said.