his hand over her mouth and prevented her.

CHAPTER IV.

It was near midnight when the travelers reached castle Wildenort. The
servant said that the count was sleeping, and that the physician who
lived in the valley was with him. The country doctor left the sickroom
and came out into the ante-chamber to welcome the new arrivals. He was
about to describe the case to Gunther, who, however, requested him not
to do so until he had himself seen the patient. Accompanied by Irma and
Bruno, he went into the sick-room.

Eberhard lay in bed, his head propped up by pillows. His eyes were wide
open, and, without showing the slightest emotion, he stared at those
who entered, as if they were figures in a dream.

"I greet you, Eberhard, with all my heart," said Gunther. The sick
man's features twitched convulsively, and his eyelids rose quickly and
as quickly fell again, while he gropingly put forth his hand toward his
old friend. But the hand sank powerless on the coverlet. Gunther
grasped it and held it fast.

Irma stood as if rooted to the spot, unable to move or utter a word.

"How are you, papa?" asked Bruno.

With a sudden start, as if a shot had whizzed by his ear, Eberhard
turned toward Bruno and motioned to him to leave the room.

Irma knelt down at his bedside, while Eberhard passed his trembling
hand over her face. It became wet with her tears. Suddenly, he drew it
back, as if it had been touching a poisonous reptile. He averted his
face and pressed his brow against the wall; and thus he lay for a long
while.

Neither Gunther nor Irma spoke a word. Their voices failed them in the
presence of him who had been deprived of speech. And now Eberhard
turned again and gently motioned his daughter to leave the room. She
did so.

Gunther remained alone with Eberhard. It was the first time in thirty
years that the two friends had met. Eberhard passed Gunther's hand
across his eyes, and then shook his head.

Gunther said: "I know what you mean; you would like to weep, but
cannot. Do you understand all I say to you?"

The patient nodded affirmatively.

"Then just imagine," continued Gunther, and his voice has a rich and
comforting tone, "that the years we've been separated from each other
were but one hour. Our measure of time is a different one. Do you still
remember how you would often in enthusiastic moments exclaim: 'We've
just been living centuries'?"

There was again a conv