"Pray be ready, gentlemen," he said as he was bandaging the arm; "I believe the sick man will come to himself in a few moments. You will find writing-materials there in the corner."
The gentlemen took their seats, and arranged a table for writing from the sick man's dictation. The surgeon brought the ice; it was laid upon Hartwich's head, and, as the Geheimrath had prophesied, he soon came to himself. He looked around him with astonishment "Am I still living?" he feebly asked.
"Certainly, certainly," said the Geheimrath, cheerfully; "it was only a slight attack."
"God of mercy," gasped Hartwich, "Thou art all compassion! My memory is still perfect. Are the lawyers here?"
One of them arose, and approached the bed.
"We are here, Herr von Hartwich, and await your directions."
"I am still of sound mind,--indeed I am," Hartwich insisted with childlike eagerness.
"The intention with which you have summoned us would certainly not indicate the contrary," said the lawyer gravely, signing to his companion to prepare to write.
"And I declare that this last decision of mine is entirely my own," Hartwich continued.
"I am convinced that it is so. I should far rather suppose that your previous will was a forced one," the official rejoined.