“A cold never lasts more than a day or two here; I am no longer afraid,” said Hamilton, following her into the drawing-room in the hope of speaking a few words more with Hildegarde; but Madame Rosenberg insisted on his going to bed, and as a bribe, promised herself to bring him a piece of cake and a glass of wine. The whole family were in the deepest sleep, and not a sound was heard in the house, when suddenly, about three o’clock in the morning, the Rosenberg bell was rung loud and violently. A great commotion ensued, and the cook having been sent downstairs to open the house-door, returned in a minute or two, preceded by Count Zedwitz’s servant, who, running towards Hamilton’s room, seemed only able to pronounce the word cholera. “Who is that?” cried Madame Rosenberg, drawing a little black shawl tightly over her shoulders, and following him with hasty steps. “What does the man mean?” She found him standing in Hamilton’s room, explaining that his master had returned home ill about one o’clock; that he had gradually become worse, and had now the cholera; he had refused to send for Mr. Hamilton, but the doctor had said some one ought to be with him, who could write to Edelhof directly. “I must say I think it very unnecessary that Mr. Hamilton should be exposed to any danger of the kind,” interposed Madame Rosenberg. “I dare say Count Zedwitz has other friends or relatives to whom he can apply.” The man said he had not been long with Count Zedwitz—he had seen him more with Mr. Hamilton than anyone else—and then he looked inquiringly towards Hamilton, who, having sprung out of bed the moment the bell rang, had finished his hasty toilet undisturbed by the presence of Madame Rosenberg. His answer was throwing his cloak over his shoulders, and advancing towards the door. “Surely you will not run the danger of getting the cholera, for a mere acquaintance of yesterday,” she cried, anxiously placing herself before him. “The danger is by no means so great as you suppose,” said Hamilton. “I doubt the cholera being contagious.” “But I don’t in the least doubt it,” cried Madame Rosenberg, “and I feel quite sure you will bring it into our house. Have some consideration for us, if you have none for yourself!” “The best plan will be not to return for a week or so,” said Hamilton. “In fact, not until you let me know that you no longer fear infection. Hans must bring me whatever I require, as soon as it is daylight.” “But he must not go backwards and forwards,” began Madame Rosenberg. “Oh, mamma!” exclaimed Hildegarde, who was standing in the passage; “will you not speak to papa about it? I am sure——”