"No, no," returned Felix. "The fellow will have to serve his term; a muscular giant like him cannot shirk military duty. If every one did that, who the deuce would defend the country and the emperor? It cannot be winked at—"
"Then are you really a doctor?" said Evila, doubting.
"Of course I am, when I say I am."
A faint reflection of pleasure crossed the girl's face.
"Then perhaps you can tell me if my little brother can ever be cured?" she said, eagerly.
"I can tell you. Bring me the child."
Evila went into the kitchen, and after some trouble persuaded the cripple to come out of his shelter in the chimney. This poor victim of man's cruelty was a miserable object. He looked as if nature had exhausted the stuff of which he was made; not one of his limbs fitted the other, and his will seemed to have no power over his body.
Evila took the sick boy upon her knee, and kissing his cheek, withered like a bit of dried parchment, told him not to be afraid, for that the stranger was a kind gentleman.
Felix examined the limbs of the cripple with all the attention of an experienced surgeon, and then with a professional air said—
"The injury can still be cured; it requires only time and care. There is in Vienna an orthopedic institution expressly for such cases; cripples are there treated, and grow up strong, healthy boys."