'Hubert says he is only bruised; they have taken him to the Strangers' Gallery. Here is Herr Greswold—he will tell us more.'
The person who entered was the physician of Hohenszalras. He was a little old man of great talent, with a clever, humorous, mild countenance; he had, coupled with a love for rural life, a passion for botany and natural history, which made his immurement in the Iselthal welcome to him, and the many fancied ailments of the Princess endurable. He bowed very low alternately to both ladies, and refused with a protest the chair to which the Countess Wanda motioned him. He said that the stranger was not in the least seriously injured; he had been seized with cramp and chills, but he had administered a cordial, and these were passing. The gentleman seemed indisposed to speak, shivered a good deal, and was inclined to sleep.
'He is a gentleman, think you? asked the Princess.
The Herr Professor said that to him it appeared so.
'And of what rank?'
The physician thought it was impossible to say.
'It is always possible,' said the Princess, a little impatiently. 'Is his linen fine? Is his skin smooth? Are his hands white and slender? Are his wrists and ankles small?'
Herr Greswold said that he was sorely grieved, but he had not taken any notice as to any of these things; he had been occupied with his diagnosis of the patient's state; for, he added, he thought the swimmer had been long in the water, and the Szalrassee was of very dangerously low temperature at night, being fed as it Was from the glaciers and snows of the mountains.
'It is very interesting,' said the Princess; 'but pray observe what I have named, now that you return to his chamber.'
Greswold took the hint, and bowed himself out of the drawing-room. Frau Ottilie returned to her nougats.