"My mistress--God bless her," said the old man, "accompanied by Mr. Bemperlein, reached her destination on the third day, and without accident Mr. Bemperlein at once communicated with Dr. Birkenhain, and learnt that Baron Berkow was still alive, but not restored to consciousness, and so weak that his dissolution was expected every hour. That continued so till the day when the letter was posted, on which day my mistress, in company with Mr. Bemperlein and----" The old man paused and coughed. "Well, and----?" asked Oswald, whose suspicions about Baron Oldenburg were once more aroused. "Well, and the doctor, of course, who else?" said the old man. "Well, what was I going to say? You have confused me with your question, sir. Ah, yes! In company with Mr. Bemperlein and the doctor went to see the baron for a few minutes. He did not recognize her, and the baron was so changed that he looked to my mistress, as she had said herself, like a perfect stranger. He also spoke a few words, but not one could be understood. Then they went away again, and immediately the baron had fallen once more into a deep sleep, and the doctor said that would probably be his condition till he died--which the Lord may bring about very soon by his mercy, so that the poor man may be relieved of his sufferings and my mistress may at last be able to breathe freely." "Amen!" said Oswald. "For you see, sir," continued the old man, "my mistress has not had much happiness all her life long, and that grieves me, for I love her as if she were my own child, and perhaps better. For I have never had any children myself, but I see how other fathers do with their children, and how they are not ashamed to treat them not as fathers, and not even as Christian men. And the father of my mistress--well, he was my master, and I have fought through many a campaign with him, and we ought not to speak evil of the departed--but he was a bad man, and yet not exactly bad either, only wild and reckless, like the youngest officer in the regiment. The madder an undertaking was, the better he liked it, and mad deeds and bad deeds often look so much alike it is hard to distinguish them. He meant no harm with them, however, even when he remained as fond of ladies after his marriage as he had been before, but he broke my mistress' heart nevertheless, and she died when her only child was only two years old. Then there was nobody there to take care of her but old Baumann. I took her and played with her, and afterwards, when she grew up, I learnt to read and write with her, for I did not know it before, and a little French, and whatever else I could get into my old head. And then I taught her how to ride, so that she has not her equal on horseback, and thus I grew once more young with her, and never wanted any children of my own, for she was my precious, darling child, although I was but a poor ignorant cavalryman, and she a great lady of high and mighty family. And I have often