e, as if by
his written testimony to remove all suspicion of any other cause.
Franzelius, who came up a moment to inquire about his health, and
scarcely dared to look the invalid in the face, had kept silence. And
indeed he knew nothing definite; he left after insisting that he must
be permitted to watch the following night. There was no longer any
mention of his fixed idea that he was pursued.

Here was a fresh instance of the power a pure and noble soul can exert
over coarser natures. There was not a loud word heard in the house;
everybody moved about on tiptoe; a Sabbath-like stillness pervaded the
workshop beneath, only interrupted by the smothered grumbling of the
head journeyman, if the apprentice who was sent up stairs in his
stocking feet every two hours to inquire about Balder, remained too
long. Even the old gentleman in the second story had been to the tun in
person to express his sympathy for Edwin, and Madame Feyertag, the only
person who succeeded in seeing the patient, came down with tearful eyes
and declared that he looked like a young Saviour, and it was heart
rending to see such a picture of a man suffer so terribly.

Reginchen, as has already been mentioned, did not appear. The
maid-servant said she was ill. Such a thing was hard to imagine, but no
one had much thought for anything except whether Balder would ever rise
from his bed again.

We must, however, except Heinrich Mohr, who in the deathlike stillness
of the house listened for nothing more anxiously than the sound of
Christiane's door. But there was no movement or sound beneath, though
hour after hour elapsed and she had never before remained absent
without informing the pupils who came to take lessons at the house, and
who were dismissed to-day by the old servant, with a shrug of the
shoulders. The uncertainty became harder and harder to bear. He had
never passed hours so full of torture as these in the quiet sick room,
beside the friend to whom he could not even speak of his fears, for
Edwin's sole anxiety was for his brother.

Evening had already come, when Mohr with a beating heart suddenly heard
a carriage drive up the street and directly after rapid steps cross the
courtyard. Now the first flight of stairs creaked, a woman's light
footsteps could be heard upon them; they paused at the first landing
but Christiane's room was not the goal, for with light cautious steps
the late visitor mounted higher, reached the door of the tun, and