. Each one lived for himself, and thought every one else was
there only for the purpose of adding to his or her comfort.

At noon a great event occurred, nothing less than the reigning Princess
sending her own court physician. Sonnenkamp was full of gratitude for
this distinction, which unhappily he had to receive under such
melancholy circumstances.

Day and night, Eric, his mother, and aunt sat, now by turns, and now
together, by the sick boy's bed. He knew no one, but lay the greater
part of the time in a half sleep; sometimes, however, in an access of
fever, he would start up with a glowing face and cry:--

"Papa is dancing upon the black people's heads! Give me back my blue
ribbon! Ah, ah!" Then as if in an ecstacy he would exclaim, "Ah! that
is the German forest! quiet, Devil! There, take the may-flowers--blue
ribbon--the boy has stolen the ring--the laughing sprite--respect to
the young baron--back, Griffin!"

The touch of Eric's hand upon his forehead always soothed him. Once
when his father was present, Roland sang a negro song, but so
unintelligibly that they could hardly make out the words. Suddenly,
however, he cried out:--

"Away with those great books! take away the great books! they are
written with blood!"

Sonnenkamp inquired if Roland had ever sung the song when he was well;
and if Eric knew from whom he had learned it. Eric had never heard it.
Sonnenkamp's manner towards Eric and his mother was full of humble
respect. He gratefully confessed that this illness, which threatened
his very existence, had yet given him that which otherwise he might
never have obtained. He had never believed in human goodness and
unselfish devotion; but he saw them now displayed before him in
unceasing activity. He would gladly kneel before the Mother and worship
her, he added with an expression that came from his heart, for she had
refused to come for pleasure, but was ready at once when called to
night-watching and the exercise of sorely tried patience; he should
never, never forget it.

The Mother felt that there was another patient here needing her care,
besides the fevered boy who lay there with closed eyes. Her intercourse
with Sonnenkamp became more intimate; he complained to her of his
never-resting grief, and again and again would come the thought: What I
desire, I desire only for this son. If he die, I shall kill myself. I
am worse than killed now, and no one must know it. Here is a being who
has no past,