She bent down and kissed the cheek so tenderly that she would not have bruised the petal of a rose. “Heart’s darling,” she murmured. He quivered all over at her touch, working his fingers in an unnatural kind of way, and ending with a convulsive twitching all over his body. Lina began to cry at the grave, anxious look on our faces. “You had better call the Fräulein to look at him,” said I. “I feel sure he ought to have a doctor; I should say he was going to have a fit.” “The Fräulein and the master are gone to the pastor’s for coffee, and Lottchen is in the higher vineyard, taking the men their bread and beer. Could you find the kitchen girl, or old Karl? he will be in the stables, I think. I must lose no time.” Almost without waiting for my reply, she had passed through the room, and in the empty house I could hear her firm, careful footsteps going up the stair; Lina’s pattering beside her; and the one voice wailing, the other speaking low comfort. I was tired enough, but this good family had treated me too much like one of their own for me not to do what I could in such a case as this. I made my way out into the street, for the first time since I had come to the house on that memorable evening six weeks ago. I bribed the first person I met to guide me to the doctor’s, and send him straight down to the “Halbmond,” not staying to listen to the thorough scolding he fell to giving me; then on to the parsonage, to tell the master and the Fräulein of the state of things at home.