t the Sistine Madonna had been removed from Dresden to Munich.
It seems as if the enchantment had vanished with the old blood the
fever consumed. Countess Toinette--I can say it as calmly as Reginchen
Franzelius."

Marquard, with immovable composure, looked him steadily in the face.
"Bravo!" said he. "You ought to have a red ticket: 'dismissed cured.'
To-day you must take a little walk, then for dinner--but I'll consult
with Madame Feyertag about that."

He pressed his hand, whose temperature did not seem to exactly please
him, and left the room. On the stairs he met Mohr. "Be kind enough to
watch Edwin to-day as closely as possible and not leave him alone
long," he whispered hastily. "His old love has accepted her count. He
says he's perfectly indifferent to it, but this idealist is not to be
trusted. Tell Franzel to keep watch to-night. I'll look in again
to-morrow."

But this time the clever physician was mistaken. When he returned the
next morning, he found his patient looking much fresher and brighter
and his pulse in a perfectly normal condition. He listened to the
account of the expedition made the day before, which, favored by the
brightest March sunlight, had for the first time restored Edwin's
confidence in his strength. "To-day, with your permission, I propose to
make a visit," said he. "I want to look in upon my little friend and
patron in the Venetian palace. He's not made his appearance in the tun
for a week. Did the child of God only have intercourse with the child
of the world as a good samaritan!"

"You're very much mistaken," replied Marquard looking unusually grave.
"Our zaunkoenig is watching his nest, because his brood is looking very
miserable."

"Leah? Sick? And how long has she been ill? Why do I first hear of it
to-day?"

"Why should I gossip about one sick room in another! I only wish I were
as successful there as here. But there are cases which remind us rather
roughly of the limits of our powers."

"Can't you understand her sickness?"

"Her case requires a wiser man than I. I know that the seat of the
difficulty is in the mind, and I would even venture to touch the sore
spot with the point of a needle. But what will that avail, if the
remedy, which I also know, is not to be bought at any apothecary's?"

"A disease of the mind?"

"No: a simple consuming fever with a perfectly clear intellect. In
short:

"By angels 'tis called a heavenly bliss,
By devils a