"She is unwell; an extraordinary accident has happened to her, which makes me excessively uneasy; and I was just about to hasten to hear how she was going on, and what Oppolzer, who was to meet her regular attendant this morning, had said." "Oppolzer consulted?" cried the count with a look of alarm; "my God! is the countess then seriously ill?" "We can scarcely think so," said von Stielow, "and yet the symptoms are very distressing; a slight wound on her wrist has become rapidly bad, and has caused her to feel so extremely ill." "A wound!" cried the count: his face grew very grave and expressed the greatest attention. "She was visiting the wounded soldiers at the northern railway station," said the young officer, "and another lady slightly hurt her wrist with a small pair of scissors in cutting off a piece of linen; it could scarcely be called a wound; but in the course of the evening the arm swelled and grew stiff, and became violently painful. Fever came on, and the doctor fears that there must have been some drug upon the scissors, what, he cannot ascertain. Under these circumstances," he said, pressing the count's hand, "you will forgive me, if I beg you to excuse me." The count had listened very gravely, his face had turned pale, and his large dark eyes looked thoughtfully at the young man's excited face. "My dear baron," he said slowly, "honestly from my heart I feel the liveliest interest in you; perhaps I can be useful to you. In former years I studied medicine deeply, especially the knowledge of poisons and their antidotes; they once," he added with a slight sigh, "played so important and frightful a part in my country, that the subject interested me deeply. If by an unhappy accident there was anything pernicious or dangerous on the scissors, I may be of some assistance. Will you allow me to see the young countess?" And in a deep voice that seemed to command conviction, he added, "Believe me, I would not propose my help if I did not believe that if serious danger has arisen, and help is possible, my remedy is certain." Herr von Stielow had at first listened to the count's proposal in silent surprise, then a look of thankfulness beamed from his eyes, and stretching out his hand he cried hastily,-- "Come!" "We must drive to my house to obtain the necessary apparatus," said the count; "if it is really a case of poisoning, recovery may depend upon moments." Instead of replying, the young man seized the count's arm and drew him to the door. They jumped into a cab that stood ready, driven by one of the best and quickest drivers in Vienna, and in a few minutes they had reached the count's rooms, which were only at a little distance. He got out, and soon returned with a small black casket. They then drove rapidly to Countess Frankenstein's and entered the reception room. In the ante-room a servant had received them with a sorrowful look, and had replied almost weeping to Herr von Stielow's hasty question,