"But my beloved friend," exclaimed the baroness, in dismay, "this is
impossible; just consider that the fever has exhausted your strength,
that--"

"Hush, do not contradict him," whispered the physician. "The
contradiction would irritate him, and might easily bring about a fresh
attack of fever."

"My clothes! my clothes!" exclaimed Baron von Stein, louder and more
imperiously than before, and he cast angry glances on his wife.

The physician himself hastened to the clothes-press, and, taking the
silken dressing-gown from it, carried it to the patient. "Here is your
dressing-gown," he said; "let me be your _valet de chambre_." Baron von
Stein thanked him with a smile, and lifted up his arms that the garment
might be wrapped around him.

"And here are your slippers," said the baroness; "let me put them on
your feet."

"And permit me to support you when you rise," said M. von Schladen,
approaching the bed. "Oh, lean on me only for a moment; afterward the
whole of Prussia will lean on you."

Baron von Stein made no reply. He put on the dressing-gown and the
slippers, and then raised himself, assisted by M. von Schladen. But his
face was pallid, and large drops of perspiration gathered on his
forehead. He left his couch, and stood free and erect. "I am well
again!" he exclaimed. "Prussia calls me! I am not allowed to be ill;
I--" His voice died away in a faint groan; his head bent down, and his
form sank to the floor. M. von Schiaden and the baroness caught him in
their arms, and placed him again on his bed.

"Doctor," exclaimed the baroness, in a menacing tone, "if he die, you
are his murderer; you have killed him!"

"No," said the physician, quietly, "I have saved him. This swoon is the
last struggle of death with triumphant life. When Baron von Stein awakes
he will be no longer seriously ill, but convalescent. When he is
conscious again, the crisis is over. See, he begins to stir! Ah, his
brave mind will not suffer his body to rest, and will assuredly awaken
it."

The baron very soon opened his eyes, and looked with a perfectly calm
and conscious expression, first at his wife, then at the physician and
the king's messenger. "M. von Schladen," he said, "will you read to me
Hardenberg's letter? Wilhelmina, lay your arm around me and support my
head a little. Waldau is right; I will not be able to set out to-day. I
am still very weak."

"But you will be able to set out in ten days," exclaimed the physician.
"Y