Laura herself showed how devoted was her love; she was always on the spot, hovering noiselessly about the sick-bed like a bird; she would sit motionless for hours, and when Ilse opened her eyes, and her strength was a little restored, she had always something pleasant to tell her. She informed her that Mrs. Struvelius had come on the second day, and, after making a little speech to the Professor, in which she solemnly claimed the right of a friend, she seated herself on the other side of the bed. He, however, had not listened to what she said, and had suddenly started and asked who she was, and what she wanted there. She had answered him quietly that she was Flaminia Struvelius, and that her heart gave her a right to be there; thereupon she repeated her argument, and at last he gave in. "Her husband, too, has been here," added Laura, cautiously. "Just when you were at the worst, he rushed up to your husband, who shook hands with him, but, between ourselves, I do not think he knew him. Then," related Laura, "that absurd fellow, the Doctor, came the very first evening, with a blanket and a tin coffee-machine, and declared he would watch also. As he could not be allowed in the sick-room, he placed himself with his tin apparatus in the Professor's room; the Professor took care of you, and the Doctor took care of the Professor." Ilse drew Laura's head down to her, and whispered in her ear, "and sister Laura took care of the Doctor." Upon this Laura kissed her, but shook her head vehemently. "He was not troublesome, at any rate," she continued; "he kept very quiet, and he was useful as a Cerberus to keep away the visitors and dismiss the many inquirers. This he did faithfully. If it were possible for you to see him, I believe it would give him great pleasure." Ilse nodded. "Let him come in." The Doctor came; Ilse stretched out her hand towards him; and felt from the warm pressure, and from the emotion on his countenance, that the learned confidant of her beloved husband, on whose approbation she had not always counted, was a true friend. Ilse found also that other gentlemen pressed to her bedside. "If the wife of my colleague will give me audience, I beg to apply for admittance," said a cheerful voice, outside. "Come in, Professor Raschke," cried Ilse, from her bed. "There she is," exclaimed he, louder than is usual in a sick-room, "returned to the glad light after a dangerous crisis." "What are the souls of animals doing, dear Professor?" asked Ilse. "They are eating the leaves in the adjacent woods," answered Raschke; "there have been numerous ladybirds this year; see, there is one flying about the medicine bottle; I fear it has used me as a stage-coach to come in to visit you. The trees stand like brooms, and the poultry are so fat that all prejudices concerning the enjoyment of these fellow-creatures are quite set aside. I count the days until the happy moment arrives when my friend will follow me to give evidence of my improvement."