“Where is the Herr Oberst?” he asked. “I understand from the landlord that he is away.” “I think he must be in Scythia,” answered Nadia. “He went to Pavelsburg on important business, but I do not know whether he is there still.” “He should be summoned at once,” said the doctor. “But he will return in a few days,” said Nadia, astonished. “You don’t wish me to telegraph to him? That would make him think that my mother was dangerously ill----” “Yes?” said the doctor, with an intonation that made her start and shiver. “But she is not even severely hurt! She has absolutely no pain!” she cried, frantically. “That is the worst symptom in the case,” he replied, in his most repressive and business-like tone. “She is suffering from paralysis, caused by----” And he entered into a learned disquisition on the exact nature of the injury sustained, culminating in the fact that the paralysis, which was now confined to the lower limbs, must necessarily creep upwards by degrees until it reached a certain point, after which---- He paused, and Nadia, who had been listening like one in a dream, forced herself to ask the question-- “And how long--how long will it be before this point is reached?” “It may be to-night, it may be to-morrow,” he answered. “Therefore, if I may advise you, send your telegram immediately.” In a stunned condition she returned into the room to ask her mother the O’Malachy’s address, only to be met by the question why she wanted it. “The doctor thought he ought to know that you were ill,” she murmured. “But why?” asked Madame O’Malachy. “He must not be sent for unless it is absolutely necessary. Did the doctor say it was necessary?” she added, quickly. Nadia bowed her head, unable to speak. For a moment her mother’s eager eyes searched her face keenly, then closed, as though in utter weariness. “You will find your father’s address on an envelope in my desk. Go and send your telegram, then bring the desk here to me. I will rest a little.” But when Nadia returned to the room, her mother did not seem inclined to rest. She made her tear up a number of papers and burn them, then sent her up-stairs for others, which were treated in the same way. Nadia had no opportunity of saying a word. At last, when the papers were all disposed of, she screwed her courage to the point of asking whether she should read aloud a little. “If you like,” returned Madame O’Malachy, indifferently. “You will find on my toilet-table the novel I was reading. I may as well finish it.” “Oh, not that, to-day!” entreated Nadia. “And why not?” asked her mother. “If not that, nothing, thank you.”