t me to remain in the same room
with a young lady whose moral principles so widely differ from mine,
and to sanction by my presence an intimacy which in every respect I
hold to be most reprehensible. Nothing remains for me but to hear from
the patient's own lips whether he desires my departure. If the doctor
should sanction this continual emotion for a patient suffering from
typhus fever, it is no business of mine."

With these words, she moved towards the folding doors, but I quietly
stopped her and said: "Mr. Morrik sleeps, so I beg of you not to
disturb him; and from this sleep you may gain the tranquillizing
assurance, that my presence is rather beneficial to him than
otherwise."

After these words we only exchanged a silent and formal curtsey, the
door closed on the deeply offended lady and a load fell from my heart.
I opened the door of the balcony which also leads into the garden, to
let out the odour of acetic ether which the lady without nerves had
brought here too. Then I looked round my new domain, and it pleased me
much. What a difference between this elegant, handsomely furnished, and
lofty apartment, and my own small room with its scanty furniture. Here,
his writing-table loaded with all the luxury of portfolios, inkstands,
and different trinkets; there, the shelves with his finely bound books;
the comfortable arm-chair, and above all the pleasure of breathing the
fresh air merely by stepping out on the balcony shaded by awnings from
whence a few steps lead into the garden. How sunny, sheltered, and
secluded it looked down there; only the splash of the fountain was
heard, and the lullaby song of a nurse who sat on a bench with a pretty
baby in her arms.

I was so charmed with the peace of this abode that I actually forgot
who was lying in the next room in a feverish slumber. I was shocked at
having been led for a moment into this obliviousness. I stepped to the
door and listened. He called "Marie" in a low voice. When I looked in,
he said: "I heard all; you are my guardian angel; I owe you the first
refreshing slumber I have had for a fortnight."--"Sleep on," I replied,
"you are not to speak. Cheer up, and dream pleasantly." He nodded
faintly, and again closed his eyes.

In the afternoon the doctor came. Him, at least, I must exempt from the
accusation I recently brought against all doctors; that of being bad
physicians for the soul. When I told him why I had remained, he smiled.
Has Morrik spoken to