Dr. Galenides smiled and bowed.
“She is regarded as a heroine now.”
“And I, my uncle tells me, as a cad,” cried Rudolph, bitterly.
“Well, not exactly as a hero, I have to admit.”
“Have you heard how she is, doctor?”
“Very ill indeed—brain fever,—but she is young and strong.”
“Doctor, if you see her, will you take her a message? I dare not write. Tell her my sufferings have been greater than hers, and tell her I shall always remember her as a sweet and charming girl far too good for me. I hope she will be happy. As for me, doctor, my life is wrecked upon the threshold.”
“One always thinks so at twenty-two. At thirty-two one understands that it is rather difficult to wreck a man’s life. Get well, my dear Monsieur Ehrenstein. Life is a very pleasant thing, I assure you, full of kindly surprise and interest. And remember the wise motto of my old friends—‘Μησἑν ἁγαν’—neither extreme, the just middle,” ended the physician, balancing by way of illustration a paper knife upon his finger.
While Dr. Galenides was putting on his gloves, the baroness entered the room, accompanied by Pericles Selaka. Rudolph’s face went bright scarlet, and then turned white, with a pinched, and anxious expression.