"Have we got another wheel like that?" he asked the head-mechanic. "Yes," whispered the pale German, who was sick at the sight of the blood. "Has the doctor come?" "Not yet." Adler whistled through his teeth with impatience. The absence of the doctor made a very unpleasant impression on him. At last, about noon, he was informed that the doctor had arrived. The old man quickly left the house. In passing the room where Ferdinand was still sleeping off the effects of his drinking bout, he beat a tattoo on the door with his stick, but got no answer. There was a large crowd outside Gosławski's cottage, for hardly anyone had gone to church. They all wanted to know the details of Gosławski's accident. A neighbour had taken his wife and children to her house. All conversation was stopped when the crowd caught sight of Adler. Only the most timid took off their caps, the others turned their heads away, and the boldest looked at him without raising their hands to their caps. The mill-owner was struck. "What do they want of me?" he thought. He spoke to one of the workmen, a German, and asked how the sick man was. "They can't tell," the man answered sullenly. "They say his whole arm had to be taken off." Adler sent someone to ask the doctor to come out to him. "Well, how is he?" inquired the mill-owner. "Dying," answered the doctor. Adler was staggered, and exclaimed, raising his voice: "What nonsense! People sometimes lose both hands or both legs and don't die of it." "The dressing was bad; there had been enormous loss of blood. Besides, the man had been overworked." This answer soon made the round of the crowd, and a murmur arose. "I will pay you well if you will look carefully after him. It cannot be true that people die from such an injury as that." At this moment the sick man cried out; the doctor ran back into the house, and the mill-owner turned to go home. "If there had been a doctor at the factory this would not have happened!" someone in the crowd called out. "We shall all come to this if they go on keeping us at work till midnight," cried another. Curses and threats were uttered here and there. But the old giant held his head erect, put his hands in his pockets, and passed through the thickest crowd. Only he half closed his eyes and was pale down to his neck. He did not seem to hear what those on the edge of the crowd were saying, and those near him gave way, guessing instinctively that this man was afraid neither of curses nor even of an open attack. Towards evening Gosławski, whom the doctor had not left for a moment, called for his wife. She came in on tiptoe, staggering and keeping back the tears that dimmed her eyes. The wounded man looked strangely haggard, and his eyes were fixed. In the dusk his face seemed to have the colour of earth.