In the hall down stairs Oswald met Oldenburg.

"I have a great mind to turn back again," said Oldenburg, after a rather formal greeting, "I did not expect to find so large a party, and came on horseback, so that I am not exactly fit for a ball, as you see. Who is there?"

"I am but just coming down," replied Oswald; "Bruno has been quite sick since day before yesterday; now he has sent me away because he wanted to sleep."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that," said Oldenburg; "I hope the boy is not going to be really sick. Did you not tell me he was a great favorite of yours?"

"Yes. Have you any news about----"

"About my Czika? No."

Oldenburg's face was clouded over. "Shall we go in?" he asked.

In one of the reception-rooms they met the old baron. Oldenburg exchanged a few words with him, and then went into the ball-room, while Oswald had to give the baron a circumstantial account of Bruno's condition during the last hours.

"Well, that is nice, that is very nice," he said; "I hope he will escape being really sick. I was almost afraid it might turn into typhoid fever. Go and tell my daughter that Bruno is better; I know she will be glad to hear it. She has asked me several times."

Oswald went into the ball-room. They were just commencing a new dance, the last one before the great pause, during which supper was to be served in the great dining-hall up stairs. There was a low divan running all around the ballroom, and Oswald remained standing on the step that led to it, near the door. The dancers near him were continually changing. Once Emily and her betrothed came to stand almost immediately before him. She pretended not to notice him; she laughed and talked aloud, perhaps a little too loud, but it is difficult not to exaggerate when one is playing a part which requires an effort; Baron Cloten, on the contrary, availed himself to the fullest extent of the privilege men in his position have a right to enjoy, and whispered unceasing nonsense in his lady's ear with a most expressive smile.

Oswald had heard of the sudden engagement of the two; he knew probably better than anybody else how it had come about. He recollected how disparagingly Emily had spoken of Baron Cloten that night at Barnewitz. Now she had promised to marry him! How happy they will be, Oswald thought, and he had to confess that, if harm came of it, no one was to blame but himself.

A few moments afterwards Helen found herself near him. She was dancing with Sylow. Oswald had observed her for some time, and noticed that she was standing cold and silent, like a marble statue, by the side of her partner, who seemed to have discovered his utter inability to begin a conversation, and was studying the chandelier with praiseworthy industry. As soon as she saw Oswald, a flash of life seemed to pass over her beautiful but sad features. She beckoned him with the eye to come near her.

"How is Bruno?"

"Thank you, better; he was going to sleep."

"Are you going to stay?"

"No, I am going back directly."

"Give my love to Bruno--and here--take this rosebud to him."

Helen took a rosebud from the bouquet she was holding in her hand and gave it to Oswald, who took it, bowing deeply. He noticed that Sylow had suddenly withdrawn his attention from the chandelier and was fixing his eyes upon his own face with an expression which was by no means agreeable.

The next moment another couple was standing in this place.

"Did you see your old admirer, Emily?" asked Cloten.

"Who do you mean?"

"Why, Dr. Stein! he was standing right behind us."

"Ah, yes! My old admirer? Are you mad, Arthur?"

"Well, well. You need not be angry. I don't believe a word of the whole story. But, for Heaven's sake! just look! He is speaking to Helen Grenwitz--she gives him a rose. Well, that is too bad! Upon my word, that caps the climax!"

"I told you there was an understanding between them. He beats you all."

"Upon my word! That is too bad! But I have taken care to make the matter known."

"What have you done?"

"Well, I have told everybody what you mentioned to me in secret. The whole ball-room knows it now, ha, ha, ha!"

"But I did not give you leave to do so."

"I thought you meant me to do so. Mr. Stein will pay for it if he does not get out of the way immediately with his rosebud."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am not going to do anything myself, but we mean to teach the fellow how to behave. It will be a glorious affair, I tell you. You shall hear all about it when its over. Ha, ha, ha!"

The happy man led his betrothed back to her place, as the dance was at an end, and turned to Sylow, who was coming towards him.

"Did you see it, Cloten?"

"I should think so."

"Is not it a scandal?"

"I am only sorry for poor Felix."

"We must tell him all about it. Do you know where he is?"

"He said just now he was tired dancing. He was going to the card-tables. I think Barnewitz is keeping bank somewhere. Suppose we go, too? There will be no more dancing until supper. We have just time to win a few louis. What do you say?"

"Of course I'll go."

Emily had watched their conversation from a distance. She saw them leave the ball-room, laughing, arm in arm. Oswald also had disappeared. Suddenly, a terrible fear overcame her. She had been the first to couple Oswald's name with Helen's name, to gratify her mad desire to be avenged on him, and it was she who had, for the same purpose, informed Felix of her pretended discovery. She had commenced telling the same story to-night again, merely for the purpose of making an end to Cloten's stupid teasing. Now only she became aware that she had gone too far, and that she had, in all probability, exposed Oswald to very great danger. And yet she loved him still with the whole strength of her passionate heart. She might have murdered him with her own hands when the fit of mad jealousy was on her, but the thought of exposing him to brutal ill-treatment at the hands of Cloten and others was terrible to her. She looked around in the ball-room to see where help might be found.

Her brother happened to come near her. She called him:

"What do you want, little one?"

"Have you seen Doctor Stein?"

"Yes, why?"

"Did you not intend asking him out for a few days during the hunting season? I am afraid it would look badly if we were to drop him so suddenly altogether."

Emily had blushed deep purple as she said these words; her usual presence of mind seemed to have forsaken her utterly.

"Invite him out!" cried Adolphus; "well, would not that be nice? So as to make the stupid report immortal that Lisbeth has started about you and him,--invite him to our house?--why, rather----"

"I pray you, Adolphus, be quiet! They can hear you all over the room!"

"Listen to me, little one," said the young man, in a low but very decided tone of voice; "I do not like that. You know I love you dearly, just as much as a brother can love his sister; but, for that very reason, I must take care to keep you from doing foolish things. And I shall take care, I assure you!"

With these words he turned his back upon her and went to join the others.

Emily could hardly repress her tears. Her anxiety increased with every hour. She must find means--one way or another. The resolute girl bethought herself of a desperate step.

She went up to Helen, who was sitting not far from her on the divan, with some other ladies, and said:

"One word, Helen."

"What is it?" asked Helen, rising.

"Come a little more this way.--Helen, you like Doctor Stein? I know you do!"

"What do you mean?" asked Helen, and the tell-tale blush rose to her pale cheeks.

"Never mind. I like him, too. Like him very much indeed, if you will have it,--and that is why I ask you to tell him--you can do it, and I cannot do it, or I would do it myself--to leave the party. Cloten, and my brother, and the other men are furious about him. I am afraid they have made a plot against him. Pray, pray, Helen, tell him to go--at once--I should be beside myself if the slightest difficulty arose between him and my brother or Cloten."

"But where is he?" said Helen, who knew, from other reasons, how very probable Emily's apprehensions were. "I believe he has gone up stairs again."

"If you are not sure of it, make it sure. Why not ask that servant there?"

"Have you seen Doctor Stein anywhere?" asked Helen.

"He is on the other side of the house, in the card-room."

"Oh God! what shall we do?" asked Emily.

"Baron Oldenburg!" called Helen, "will you have the kindness to come here for a moment?"

"With pleasure, Miss Helen," said the baron, who had been examining a picture on the wall, his hands folded behind his back.

"What are you going to do, Helen?"

"Never mind! Will you do me a favor, baron?"

"Mais, sans doute!"

"Do please find out Doctor Stein; he is in the card-room, and tell him I wish he would go back to Bruno at once. Do you hear: at once?"

It needed not Oldenburg's sagacity to see that this message, which might have been carried just as well by a servant, had a deeper meaning. Helen had taken the very greatest pains to state her request in a natural tone of voice, but the effort was visible, and this and Emily's intent gaze, together with her ghastly pale face, furnished a very clear commentary to Helen's words.

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"I shall obey your orders promptly and literally," said the baron, bowing, and leaving the ball-room with longer strides than usual.

In the mean time, Oswald had wandered about in the room without a fixed purpose. He had at first intended, as soon as he had spoken to Helen, to return to Bruno, but it occurred to him that the boy might be really asleep, and that he should then only disturb him. Perhaps, also, the vague hope of seeing Helen once more, and that demoniacal power which drives men, unconsciously and unwillingly, to drift towards their fate, kept him from carrying out his resolution. Hardly knowing how he had come to that part of the house, he suddenly found himself in one of the rooms on the other side of the chÂteau, where a number of gentlemen were crowding around a large table. Some were seated, others standing. Baron Barnewitz sat in the middle and held bank. He had apparently had much luck. Large piles of gold and silver and bank-notes lay before him, and were continually increasing. Felix sat near him. He played passionately, but, as it seemed, without luck. His face was very red, his eyes bloodshot, and the veins on his forehead swollen into knots. He hardly listened to what some of his friends behind him said; some of whom tried to encourage him, while others dissuaded him. Oswald happened to come to stand right opposite him; Felix only noticed him after some time, and it was very perceptible that his restlessness increased more and more. He drank glass after glass from a bottle that was standing at his elbow, and doubled and trebled his stakes, without any other result than that he lost twice and thrice as much as he had done before.

Another roll of gold had just wandered from his place to the great pile before Barnewitz; Felix drew out his pocketbook, and selected a very large bank-note from the papers it contained.

"You do not mean to venture the whole sum at once, Grenwitz?" asked Grieben, bending his giraffe-like neck over him.

"Are you mad, Grenwitz?" said Cloten, who had just entered with Sylow.

"Ah, pshaw!" replied Felix. "That shortens the process."

"Faites votre jeu, messieurs!" cried Barnewitz, taking a new pack of cards in his hand.

"Have you done, Grenwitz?"

"Yes. All right!"

"Queen of hearts for me. Ladies always for me. Thanks, Grenwitz. Glad to see you again in that way."

Felix did not look as if he could reply to such a friendly wish. His confused glance wandered around the table, and at last remained fixed on Oswald.

"Ho, there!" he cried, at the top of his voice, "bring me a glass of wine, sir!"

It was not until all eyes were turned upon Oswald, that he became aware of being himself the person to whom these rude words were addressed.

"The fellow does not seem to hear well," exclaimed Felix. "I say, bring me a glass of wine, do you hear?"

"I believe a glass of water would be more useful," replied Oswald, in a calm, firm voice, and without changing his position.

It was so still in the room, one might have heard a needle drop.

"How do you like that, gentlemen?" said Felix, looking around. "My uncle keeps a nice set of servants, don't you think so?"

"You had better show him who is master in the house," said Sylow.

"Or let him stay in school an hour longer," suggested Grieben.

"Or better still: Give him the switch, with which he punishes the poor boys," said Cloten.

"Or punish him with the contempt he deserves," added Breesen.

Oswald turned his eyes from one to the other, like a lion who is undecided whether he shall fall upon the dogs that bark at him or not. He had drawn himself up to his full height. His hand, which he had laid on the table, quivered a little, but surely not from want of courage.

"Are you going, or not?" cried Felix, jumping up and placing himself directly before Oswald.

"Do not carry the impertinence too far," said Oswald, putting the rose-bud, which Helen had given him for Bruno, into his button-hole; "else I must make an example of you for the benefit of the other boys."

Felix extended his arm to seize Oswald. The moment he touched him, Oswald took him in his strong arms, lifted him up bodily and threw him on the ground, so that the glasses and the money on the table shook and trembled.

"Who wants to be the next?" he called out, with a voice of thunder; "Come on, you cowardly wolves, who hunt in packs."

His eyes shone with a wild desire to fight; his breast rose and sank quickly, his hands closed instinctively, and he did not think his life worth a pin at that moment.

All saw this, and no one dared to accept the challenge.

Felix had risen again, but only to fall into the arms of his nearest neighbor. He was stunned by the heavy blow; the blood was streaming from his nose and mouth.

A threatening murmur passed through the large room. Single voices were heard, exclaiming: "Shall we submit to that?--Knock him down!--Don't let him get away alive!"

They crowded around him; fierce cries and low mutterings were heard on all sides; Oswald was looking for the one whose turn it was to be next.

Suddenly Oldenburg stood by his side.

"How, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, raising himself to his full stately height; "twenty against one! The odds are too unfair in all conscience. Perhaps you would like to call in a few servants to help you!"

His words acted like a charm. Everybody saw at once the disgraceful scene in its true light. The more sensible felt obliged to the baron for having saved them from the disgrace in which they would have been involved a minute later. A few only seemed to take his interference amiss.

"The matter does not concern you, baron," cried Grieben, angrily.

"Pardon me, Count Grieben," replied Oldenburg; "the matter does concern me in two ways. First, because I think it is every gentleman's duty to see that such affairs are carried out, I will not say decently, but at least honestly; and secondly, because I have the honor of calling Dr. Stein my friend. If you or any of your friends here desire to hold me to an account for what I have said, I am at your service. In the mean time, however, I beg you will allow me to arrange the difficulty of my friend, Doctor Stein, in a manner fit for gentlemen. I shall be back here in a few moments, to place myself at your disposal. You will give me your arm, Doctor Stein?"

The baron took Oswald's arm into his, and led him out of the room, through the midst of the young noblemen, who readily made way for him.

When they were outside, he said: "Now you must go to your room. I will follow you in a few minutes. Of course you are the challenger?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall challenge Felix Grenwitz in your name. You choose pistols."

"Yes. You will please challenge him, and whoever else may desire to meet me."

"We will content ourselves for the present with Grenwitz. You do not care for the others half as much, I suppose. When?"

"As soon as possible. To-morrow morning, as far as I am concerned."

"Bon, Ten paces distance!"

"Or five."

"Ten is enough. Leave the rest to me. Au revoir, then, in your room."

The baron returned to the card-room, where the last scene had taken place. Twenty tongues at once were discussing the matter, but they all became silent when he entered. Oldenburg delivered his message to Grieben, who had undertaken to act as Felix's second. They agreed upon a meeting at five o'clock on the next morning, or at ten, if Felix should not have sufficiently recovered before, and the place was to be a small copse on Baron Cloten's estate. Then the gentlemen returned--it may be imagined in what state of mind to the ball-room, where the ladies had been waiting for some time, to escort them to the supper-rooms. Felix had been carried off by his friends to his rooms; he was too drunk and too much stunned by his fall to appear again in the company. Oldenburg returned to Oswald.

As he did not find him in his room, and presumed he was with Bruno, from whose room a light fell through the half-open door, he went softly across and found Oswald bending over the boy's bed.

"How is he?" he asked.

"I am afraid he is very ill," replied Oswald, looking up; "his sleep is very restless, and his pulse galloping furiously."

"Let me see," said Oldenburg; "I know something of these things."

"He is indeed very ill," he continued, after a short pause. "How long has this been so, and how did it come about?"

Oswald gave him, in a few short words, an account of Bruno's case.

"And the pain had entirely left him an hour ago?" asked Oldenburg.

"Yes, almost entirely----"

"Then you must be prepared for the worst I presume he has received a serious internal injury, and now mortification has set in. One of us must go for the doctor."--He looked at his watch. "It is ten; I was going to return home before supper. My Almansor stands saddled at the door. Do you go to town. I am perhaps of more use here, now, than you. You have bright moonlight. The road is good. It is a little over two miles to town. You can be there in ten minutes. Pull off your dress coat and put on an overcoat. There! You will not want a whip or spurs. Almansor is quite fresh. Now, don't spare him!"

The baron had helped Oswald to put on his coat, and placed his hat on his head. Oswald submitted to it all. He came to himself only when he was on Almansor's back, when the night-wind was whistling past his ears, and houses and trees, hedges and fields, and gardens on both sides were gliding by him spectre-like in the pale moonlight.

And now he was on the vast heath, which extended behind the village as far as Fashwitz. He saw the moonshine glitter mysteriously on the black water in the deep peat cuttings; he heard from time to time the hoarse cry of a marsh-bird, whom he had frightened from his nest; otherwise not a sound, nothing but the dull thunder of Almansor's hoofs and the night-wind as it swept wailing and complaining across the heath.

And now, while he was in the very heart of the heath was not that another horse he heard, or was it merely the echo? It came nearer and nearer; Almansor pointed his ears and went faster and faster, as if he were trying to escape from death. And yet it came closer and closer. Oswald turned round, and vague horror seized him as he saw behind him a black figure on a black horse, whose hoofs did not seem to touch the ground.

A second more and the black horseman was by his side; the horses were racing head by head and snorted at each other with wide open nostrils.

"What do you wish?" asked Oswald, mastering his terror.

"Not much!" replied the black horseman, in a deep, hollow voice. "Wish only to report that my mistress has been back since day before yesterday; thought the young gentleman might not know it. No harm done, sir! Beg pardon! Good-night and good luck!"

The horseman threw his horse around, Almansor raced on, and the next moment Oswald was quite alone once more.

Was it the offspring of his overwrought imagination? Was it reality? Was it a phantom? Was that really old Baumann on Brownlock? Oswald could not tell to save his life.

And again houses and gardens, hedges and trees flew by him on the right and on the left, spectre-like, in the pale moonlight. A dog snapped with a yell at Almansor's hoofs. The next moment all had vanished, and boundless fields of grain waved and whispered on both sides of the high road.

Then lights began to shine from afar; they came nearer and nearer. A bell struck loud once; already a quarter to eleven! and once more houses right and left, trees, and hedges, and gardens. Then a dark town-gate, and then Almansor's hoofs on the hard pavement.

"Where does Doctor Braun live?"

"Down the street; the last house on the left."

Before that house a carriage was waiting. Lights shone from the open house-door and the open windows of the lower story.

"Is the doctor at home?"

"Here!" said Doctor Braun, from a window. "Where from?"

"From Grenwitz. It is I. Make haste--Bruno is dying."

"Was just coming," called Doctor Braun, already at the door. "Take a seat with me. I will drive myself. Charles can ride your horse back slowly. Are you in? Good. Now let us be off."

The carriage thundered through the dark streets, through the narrow gate, out into the silent moonlit night, which lay dreamily on fields and gardens, on meadows and forests, full of sweet fragrance. They went back the same way Oswald had come. The doctor's powerful horses trotted fast; in a few minutes they were on the heath.

Neither of them had said much. Oswald had told Doctor Braun of Bruno's complaint, like most laymen, dwelling on trifles and leaving out what was most important. Doctor Braun had asked a few brief questions. Then both had been silent for some time.

"You must be prepared for the worst," began Doctor Braun. "From what you tell me, I should not wonder if we found Bruno no longer alive."

Oswald made no reply. He uttered a groan, like a man under torture when the screws have had another turn.

The doctor whipped the horses, who now went off at full speed.

A few minutes later the carriage was at the great portal of the chÂteau. Every window was bright with light. From the supper-room loud music was heard. The servants were busily running to and fro.

When they entered Bruno's room. Baron Oldenburg rose from the bed, over which he had been bending.

"God be thanked that you are coming," he said; "I have watched by many a sick-bed, but I have never felt a longer hour than this."

He wiped his brow; his sad face was pale; he seemed to be deeply moved.

Dr. Braun examined the patient; then he remained standing by the bedside, without looking at the others.

"Is there no hope?"

"None."

Then Bruno raised himself slightly.

"Is that you, mamma? Do you come to sing me to sleep? How was the old song?"

And in a wondrously sweet voice, low, very low, like the notes of an Æolian harp, he began to sing a Swedish song, as his mother might have sung it to him years ago.

He was leaning back again on his pillow. Through the deep stillness of the room Oswald's sobs alone were heard; the eyes of the other two men were filled with tears.

"Is that you, Oswald?" asked Bruno; "why do you cry? Good evening, doctor; where do you come from? I suppose I am at the end of my life. Where is Baron Oldenburg? Give me your hand. You have been very kind to me. Doctor, must I die? Yes?--tell me, I am no coward; I knew it yesterday already; must I die? Then, Oswald, one more request; bend over me, I will whisper it in your ear."

Oswald did as he was asked.

He rose and went to the door. Oldenburg had followed him.

"I know what Bruno wants. He has asked for her a hundred times. I will call her. It is the last prayer of a dying man."

He went out; Oswald approached the bed again.

"Is she coming?"

"Yes."

"Put my pillow a little higher, Oswald, and put the lamp there, so that the light falls right upon her. Thank you; that is right."

"She is not coming--yes, was not that her voice? Screw the lamp down, Oswald, it is too bright in the room.--Helen!"

A blissful smile passed over his features.

"Helen! How pale you are; and yet how beautiful! Give me that rose on your bosom. Oh, do not cry! Let me kiss your hand, Helen!"

Helen bent over him and kissed him on his lips.

Bruno put his arms around her neck.

"I love you, Helen."

His arms sank back on the coverlet Dr. Braun gently raised Helen. He bent over the bed and listened for a moment. As he rose again he softly passed his hand over the eyes of the departed.