The next morning he awoke in a shiver, though the stove had retained some heat and the sun was shining into the room brightly.  He took his gold watch from his pocket—­a possession that had escaped drowning with him—­and ascertained that his pulse was beating more than a hundred times a minute, which is too much for a healthy man.  But he paid no attention to his condition, got up, washed all over in cold water, dressed, and prepared his breakfast, by no means feeling like an invalid.  Nevertheless he was aware he ought to be cautious, knowing that now, when the tension and excitement had relaxed, his body might have to confess to its consumption of capital and file a petition in bankruptcy.  Sometimes, without a warning to one’s strength, the body overcomes the severest hardships as if the thing were mere child’s play; and all goes well so long as the stimulated body is in motion.  It works on its surplus energy, and as soon as the will and the tension relax, it collapses.

XXVI

Shortly before ten o’clock Frederick was in his friend’s consultation room.  The walk to Meriden on the brisk winter day had done him good.

“How did you sleep?” asked Schmidt.  “You know, you superstitious people maintain that what you dream the first night in a strange place will come true.”

“I hope not,” said Frederick.  “My first night was rather insignificant, and things passed helter-skelter through my brain.”

He said nothing of a dream he had had, in which he heard the ringing of the electric bells on the Roland.  Though he fought against the impression, it obstinately transported him back to those horrid moments of the shipwreck.  Little by little this illusion of his hearing had become Frederick’s cross.  Sometimes he feared it might be a species of aura, which he, as a physician, knew not infrequently announces an attack of severe illness.

The consultation rooms of the two physicians were separated by the waiting-room, which they used in common.  Mrs. Schmidt, whom Frederick had met the day before, came over and, greeting him parenthetically, asked her husband to help her with the examination of one of her patients, a woman of about twenty-seven, who shortly before had married a workman holding a good position in one of the Meriden factories.  The woman complained of an upset stomach.  Mrs. Schmidt suspected cancer of the stomach.

Both Schmidt and his wife asked Frederick to join them in the examination.  They found the patient smiling as she lay stretched on the table.  Her smile changed to an expression of astonishment when she saw the two gentlemen.  Mrs. Schmidt introduced Frederick as a famous German physician.

“I just spoiled my stomach a little,” the woman, who was pretty and well dressed, said in excuse for the trouble she was giving.  “My husband will laugh at me and scold me if he hears I ran to a doctor.”