The struggle had lasted some minutes before Philip felt the man’s arms grow limp, and he called to Paula to bring him a sheet—­a rope—­what not—­to bind the raving man.  She flew into the next room, quite collected; fetched her handkerchief, snatched off the silken girdle that bound her waist, rushed back and helped the leech to tie the maniac’s hands.  She understood her friend’s least word, or a movement of his finger; and when the slaves whom the nun had fetched came into the room, they found Rustem with his hands firmly bound, and had only to prevent him from leaping out of bed or throwing himself over the edge.  Philippus, quite out of breath, explained to the slaves how they were to act, and when he opened his medicine-chest Paula noticed that his swollen, purple fingers were trembling.  She took out the phial to which he pointed, mixed the draught according to his orders, and was not afraid to pour it between the teeth of the raving man, forcing them open with the help of the slaves.

The soothing medicine calmed him in a few minutes, and the leech himself could presently wash the wound and apply a fresh dressing with the practised aid of the Sister.

Meanwhile the crazy girl had been waked by the ravings of the Persian, and was anxiously enquiring if the dog—­the dreadful dog—­was there.  But she soon allowed herself to be quieted by Paula, and she answered the questions put to her so rationally and gently, that her nurse called the physician who could confirm Paula in her hope that a favorable change had taker place in her mental condition.  Her words were melancholy and mild; and when Paula remarked on this Philippus observed: 

“It is on the bed of sickness that we learn to know our fellow-creatures.  The frantic girl, who perhaps fell on the son of this house with murderous intent, now reveals her true, sweet nature.  And as for that poor fellow, he is a powerful creature, an honest one too; I would stake my ten fingers on it!”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Even in his delirium he did hot once scratch or bite, but only defended himself like a man.—­Thank you, now, for your assistance.  If you had not flung the cord round his hands, the game might have ended very differently.”

“Surely not!” exclaimed Paula decidedly.  “How strong you are, Philip.  I feel quite alarmed!”

“You?” said the leech laughing.  “On the contrary, you need never be alarmed again now that you have seen by chance that your champion is no weakling.—­Pfooh!  I shall be glad now of a little rest.”  She offered him her handkerchief, and while he thankfully used it to wipe his brow—­controlling with much difficulty the impulse to press it to his lips, he added lightly: