"Well, well," said the surgeon, "what I hoped might proceed gently and gradually has taken place suddenly, from a violent nervous crisis setting free the blood collected in the vessels. It is scarcely possible that this can have happened without causing serious mischief, besides the frightful effect upon the nerves. Did you talk to him much?" he asked, looking firmly at the candidate. "I said," he replied, folding his hands, "what my calling requires me to say to the sick, I hardly know whether he understood me." "Forgive me, sir," said the surgeon, in a brusque voice, shaking his head, "I am not one of those who despise religion, and from my heart I believe that all help comes from God; but in this case it really would have been better to let him sleep." "The word of God, with its wondrous power, is never out of place," replied the candidate in a cold tone of conviction, raising his eyes with a pious expression. "My God! my God!" cried Helena from the next room, in a loud, half-frightened, half-joyful voice, "he lives, he wakes!" They all hastened into the room; the physician went to the head of the bed, whilst Helena still knelt and pressed the lieutenant's hand to her lips. He had opened his eyes, and turned a wondering look from one face to another, as if surprised at the excitement he saw on every countenance. "What has happened?" he asked in a low, but perfectly clear voice, whilst a slight flow of blood still came from his lips. "I have had a bad, bad dream,--I thought I was dying." His eyes closed again. The surgeon raised the pillows that supported his head, gently took his hand from Helena, and examined his pulse. "A glass of wine," he cried. Fritz Deyke hurried away, and returned in a moment with a glass of old dark red wine. The surgeon held it to his patient's lips. He drank it eagerly to the last drop. In trembling anxiety they all awaited the result. Helena's face was as pale as marble; her soul lay in her eyes. After a short time a tinge of colour came to von Wendenstein's cheek, a deep sigh heaved his breast, and he opened his eyes. They rested on Helena, and a smile passed over his face. "Draw a deep breath," said the doctor. He did so immediately. "Does it hurt you?" The young officer shook his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on Helena. The doctor again felt his pulse, laid his hand on his brow, and listened attentively to his breathing. He then went up to Madame von Wendenstein, and said, as he held out his hand to her with a joyful smile, "Nature has conquered this violent crisis, now only rest and nourishment are needed; thank God, your son is saved!" The old lady approached the bed, pressed an affectionate kiss upon her son's brow, and gazed long into his eyes. Then she left the room, and sank upon the sofa in the adjoining apartment: the frightful excitement and the long, anxious suspense had so exhausted her strength that her whole soul sought relief in a storm of tears.