Doctor Wilhelm, who also seemed to be extremely interested in Ingigerd, began to speak of Achleitner.

“He told me in confidence, he’s engaged to her.”

Frederick remained silent.  That was his only way of concealing his profound dismay, now that the ship’s doctor confirmed the supposition he had expressed at the dinner-table.

“Achleitner is a faithful dog,” Doctor Wilhelm continued.  “He is one of those men who have a canine sort of patience.  He sits up on his hind legs and begs for a lump of sugar.  He fetches and carries and lies down and plays dead.  She could do whatever she wanted, and he would still, I think, be her patient, faithful poodle.  If you’d like to, Doctor von Kammacher, we might go on deck and visit her.  She’s lots of fun.  Besides we can watch the sun set.”

XII

Little Mara lay stretched out in a steamer chair.  Achleitner was most uncomfortably perched on a small camp-stool directly in front of her, so that he could look straight into her face.  He had wrapped her up to her shoulders in rugs.  The setting sun, casting its rays across the mighty heavings of the sea, glorified a lovely face.  The ship was no longer tossing so violently, and the deck was lively with people sitting in chairs or promenading up and down.  Some of the passengers had got over their seasickness, and there was a general air of revived animation and talkativeness.

Mara’s appearance was somewhat conspicuous.  She wore her very long, light hair flowing, and was playing with a small doll, a fact of which every passerby turned about to assure himself.

When Frederick saw this girl, who for weeks had been hovering in his soul, in his dreams, in his waking hours, who, as it were, had covered the rest of the world from his sight, or, at least, had cast a veil over it, his excitement was so intense and his heart beat so violently against his ribs that he had to turn away to keep his countenance.  Even after the lapse of several seconds, it was difficult for him to believe that the enthralled, enslaved condition of his being was not noticeable to the people about him.  But his excitement was by no means due solely to the fear of self-betrayal.  It sprang from his passion, which, he suddenly realised, dominated him with undiminished strength.

“Papa told me you were here,” the little miss said to him, adjusting the blue silk cap on her doll’s head.  “Won’t you sit down with us?  Mr. Achleitner, please go and get a chair for Doctor von Kammacher.”  She turned to Doctor Wilhelm.  “Your treatment was summary, but I am grateful to you.  I feel very well sitting here, watching the sun set.  You’re fond of nature, aren’t you, Doctor von Kammacher?”

“Nur fuer Natur hegte sie Sympathie,” trolled Doctor Wilhelm, swaying on tip-toe.

“Oh, you are impudent,” Ingigerd reproved him.  “Doctor Wilhelm is impudent, you know,” she added to Frederick.  “I saw he was the very instant he looked at me and the way he took hold of me.”