They proved to be servants of the count. The butler was in the carriage. He opened the door. "At last, sir! Have you brought the doctor with you? Our master is nearly mad, and has sent me out to look for you."
"Is she worse?" inquired the doctor.
"I don't know," said the butler, anxiously; "it was bad enough from the beginning. She is in the most violent fever. Two maids can hardly hold the poor thing on her couch. If the gentlemen would step into my carriage, we should reach the castle in half an hour, the horses being fresher."
Castle Borky was originally only a shooting-box of the Baranowskis, but the last occupant had been a misanthropic bachelor who had added considerably to the building, converting it into a residence. Situated on the lower slope of the mountains, it commanded a splendid view over the plain. This outlook, in fact, was its only attraction, for the garden, though large, was not ornamental. The pond, on whose shore that desperate struggle had taken place, had been artificially excavated in the plateau behind the house.
Beaching the house, they were met by the count. "Dr. Reiser," he cried, taking his hand, "come quickly!"
He led him up the stairs and through a suite of rooms until they stood in the sick-room. There was Judith, her haggard face deathly white, her forehead so covered with perspiration that her auburn hair clung to her temples in disordered locks. Her eyes were shut, and her limbs shook with fever. Two servants, common wenches, with coarse faces, cowered at the foot of the bed.
"She is asleep," whispered the count.
The doctor shook his head, went softly to her, and looked at the emaciated features of the girl he had known a few weeks before as a blooming beauty. His heart beat hard as he remembered the rose-bush.
She opened her eyes; the mad light of fever shone in them. "Agenor," she whispered. Baranowski bent over her tenderly, answering, "Here I am! What is it?"
"Agenor!" she shrieked, "have pity on me and let me die!"