"_Darf ich bitten_?" said the doctor to Herr Dremmel, not perceiving Ingeborg, who was shuttered out of sight by the one half of the door he had opened. "Ah--it is the Herr Pastor," he added less officially on recognising him, and advanced holding out his hand. "I hope, my friend, there is nothing wrong with you?" Herr Dremmel did not answer, but seizing his hat made a movement of a forestalling character towards the consulting room; and the doctor turning to follow him beheld Ingeborg in her corner behind the door. "Ah--the Frau Pastor," he said, bowing again and again advancing with an extended hand. "Which," he added, looking from one to the other, "is the patient?" But Herr Dremmel's back, disappearing with determination into the next room, suggested an acute need of assistance not visible in his wife's retiring attitude. "You'll tell me the _truth_ about him, won't you?" she whispered, anxiously. "You won't hide things from me?" The doctor looked grave. "Is it so serious?" he asked; and hurried after Herr Dremmel and shut the door. Ingeborg sat and waited for what seemed a long time. She heard much murmuring, and often both voices murmured together, which puzzled her. Sometimes, indeed, they ceased to be murmurs and rose to a point at which they became distinct--"You forget I am a Christian pastor," she heard Robert say--but they dropped again, though never into a pause, never into those moments of silence during which Robert might be guessed to be putting out his tongue or having suspect portions of his person prodded. She sat there worried and anxious, all her own affairs forgotten in this fear of something amiss with him; and when at last the door opened again and both men came out she got up eagerly and said, "Well?" Herr Dremmel was looking very solemn; more entirely solemn than she had ever seen him; almost as though he had already attained to that crown of a man's career, that final touch of all, that last gift to the world, a widow and orphans. The doctor's face was a careful blank. "Well?" said Ingeborg again, greatly alarmed. "Does the Frau Pastor also wish to consult me?" asked the doctor. "Yes. I did. But it doesn't really matter now. Robert--" Herr Dremmel was putting on his hat very firmly and going towards the outer door without saying good-bye to the doctor. "I will wait for you outside and drive you home, Ingeborg," he said, not looking round. She stared after him. "Is he very ill?" she asked, turning to the doctor. "No." "No?" "No," said the doctor, with a stress on it. "But--" "And you look very well, too. Pray, keep so. It is not necessary, judging from your appearance, to consult me further. I will conduct you to your carriage." "But--" said Ingeborg, who found herself being offered an arm and led ceremoniously after Robert. "Take your tonic, be much in the sun, and alter nothing in your present mode of life," said the doctor. "But Robert--"