a postscript, when he
heard steps on the stairs and directly after Marquard entered with the
count.

His first emotion was that of surprise, at seeing the very face he had
imagined whenever he thought of his rival--the insipid regularity of
the features, the haughty pose of the head, the hair already thin and
streaked with grey, while a thick, carefully trimmed beard covered the
cheeks and chin, the whole appearance indicating the scion of a noble
house and the heir of large estates. But the bright light that fell
upon his countenance revealed also traces of secret suffering, which
weighed down the eyelids and compressed the lips. The painful suspense
with which Edwin had awaited the man he had so long avoided, instantly
disappeared. It cost him no effort to take the hand which his old
antagonist frankly extended, and he returned its pressure without any
feeling of bitterness.

"We both know enough of each other to meet, even at the first
interview, as old acquaintances," said the count. "Our friend Doctor
Marquard, has told you the sad circumstances which induced me to ask
his advice. Unfortunately, he has been forced to confirm my fear that
his science has no means of reaching this obstinate disease. In such
cases we usually take refuge in all sorts of miraculous remedies, and I
confess I'm not sufficiently free from superstition, to refuse to
consult, if necessary, some old astrologist, or some woman who deals in
herbs. But before proceeding to such extreme measures, I should like to
try a better remedy. I know you were on very intimate terms with the
countess before she became my wife. She told me at the time, that there
was no man for whom she felt more esteem, nay reverence, than for
yourself; perhaps for that very reason another man would inform anyone,
rather than you, of his domestic unhappiness. But I believe you to be a
man of honor, Herr Doctor, and therefore incapable of entering my house
with selfish and malevolent joy to meet the woman who has not made your
rival happy. Besides, my state of mind is such that I no longer care
for myself, that I would risk everything to avert, if possible, the
terrible misfortune that threatens my wife. I shall consider it a great
proof of friendship, if you will go with me and after watching the
patient for a time, give me your opinion of her. If you should
succeed--" He paused and turned away. "However," he continued in a much
more formal tone, "I've no excuse whatever