The doctor had risen; he walked a few times up and down the room with rapid strides; then he stopped before Oswald and said, with heart-winning kindliness: "Pardon me if I have offended you by one or the other word I have spoken; perhaps I have been inconsiderate. But it always excites me to see a superior man remain idle or follow false lights. The former is the sin against the Holy Ghost, the gravest of all our sins; the other is less grave, but almost equal. I absolve you from the former, but I cannot but declare you guilty of the latter. You know what I told you the other day about your position here; now, after having seen you myself in this circle, I consider it still more objectionable. Give it up before it is too late! It may be unwarrantable indiscretion in me to speak to you thus, but you know we physicians have the privilege of being indiscreet. Are you angry?" "I should be the greatest fool if I were so weak," replied Oswald. "On the contrary, I am very grateful to you for the sympathy you show me, and which I am not deserving, I fear. But I think you look upon things as a little too dark----" "Only too dark?" said the doctor, laughing; "I do not see them gray nor black; I do not see them at all; I am blind, purblind, in both eyes. Adieu, _mon cher_, adieu! If after some days you should not feel quite as well as you do at this hour, send for me! You shall see I am not a doctor for the well only, but also for the sick!" With these words the doctor hastily left the room, and a moment afterwards Oswald heard the grating of the wheels on the gravel before the portal of the château. CHAPTER II.