Herr Paul stood by the bedside speechless.  Suddenly he blurted out.

“Ah! my dear!  Courage!  We are all mortal.  You will get well!” All the morning he walked about quite inconsolable.  “It was frightful to see him, you know, frightful!  An iron man could not have borne it.”

When Christian came to him, Mr. Treffry raised himself and looked at her a long while.

His wistful face was like an accusation.  But that very afternoon the news came from the sickroom that he was better, having had no pain for several hours.

Every one went about with smiles lurking in their eyes, and ready to break forth at a word.  In the kitchen Barbi burst out crying, and, forgetting to toss the pan, spoiled a Kaiser-Schmarn she was making.  Dominique was observed draining a glass of Chianti, and solemnly casting forth the last drops in libation.  An order was given for tea to be taken out under the acacias, where it was always cool; it was felt that something in the nature of high festival was being held.  Even Herr Paul was present; but Christian did not come.  Nobody spoke of illness; to mention it might break the spell.

Miss Naylor, who had gone into the house, came back, saying: 

“There is a strange man standing over there by the corner of the house.”

“Really!” asked Mrs. Decie; “what does he want?”

Miss Naylor reddened.  “I did not ask him.  I—­don’t—­know—­whether he is quite respectable.  His coat is buttoned very close, and he—­doesn’t seem—­to have a—­collar.”

“Go and see what he wants, dear child,” Mrs. Decie said to Greta.

“I don’t know—­I really do not know—­” began Miss Naylor; “he has very—­high—­boots,” but Greta was already on her way, with hands clasped behind her, and demure eyes taking in the stranger’s figure.

“Please?” she said, when she was close to him.

The stranger took his cap off with a jerk.

“This house has no bells,” he said in a nasal voice; “it has a tendency to discourage one.”

“Yes,” said Greta gravely, “there is a bell, but it does not ring now, because my uncle is so ill.”

“I am very sorry to hear that.  I don’t know the people here, but I am very sorry to hear that.

“I would be glad to speak a few words to your sister, if it is your sister that I want.”

And the stranger’s face grew very red.

“Is it,” said Greta, “that you are a friend of Herr Harz?  If you are a friend of his, you will please come and have some tea, and while you are having tea I will look for Chris.”

Perspiration bedewed the stranger’s forehead.

“Tea?  Excuse me!  I don’t drink tea.”

“There is also coffee,” Greta said.

The stranger’s progress towards the arbour was so slow that Greta arrived considerably before him.

“It is a friend of Herr Harz,” she whispered; “he will drink coffee.  I am going to find Chris.”