I mastered my repugnance, and raised the arm of the sick man. It was wasted and tremulous, the hand small and wiry. The pulse was rapid, fluttering and feverish, indicating intense nervous excitement. What was I to do? I considered. On one side stood the young Countess, anxiously awaiting an expression of my opinion; on the other, Sperver, trying to read my thoughts and following attentively my slightest movement. A painful restraint was thus imposed upon me.
However, I saw that no decided step could be undertaken as yet. I dropped the arm, and listened to the breathing. From time to time, something like a sob escaped the sick man's breast; then the respiration became normal again; then faster, and finally, labored. Some sort of nightmare oppressed him. But the cause!—this I must determine first, and I must confess it seemed hopeless enough. I turned round, sorely perplexed.
"Is there any hope, monsieur?" asked the young woman.
"Yesterday's crisis is drawing to a close, mademoiselle. We must seek to ward off the next attack."
"Is that a possible thing?"
I was about to reply in some scientific generalities, not daring to commit myself, when the distant sound of the Castle bell fell upon our ears.
"Strangers," said Sperver.
There was a moment of silence.
"Go and see who it is," said Odile, whose brow was shadowed with anxiety. "How can we be hospitable at such times? It is impossible."
Just then the door opened, and a yellow head and rosy cheeks appeared in the shadow, whispering, "The Baron Zimmer, accompanied by his servant, asks for shelter in the Castle. He has lost his way in the mountains."