"I am not likely to have forgotten it," I answered, "considering that it was I who first warned your brother that Herr Grosse might do terrible mischief by innocently letting out the truth."
"Do you recollect how Grosse took the warning when we gave it to him?"
"Perfectly. He promised to be careful. But, at the same time, he gruffly forbade us to involve him in any more of our family troubles. He said he was determined to preserve his professional ******* of action, without being hampered by domestic difficulties which might concern _us,_ but which did not concern _him._ Is my memory accurate enough to satisfy you?"
"Your memory is wonderful. You will now understand me when I tell you that Grosse asserts his professional ******* of action on this occasion.
I had it from his own lips on our way here. He considers it very important that Lucilla should not be frightened at the moment when she tries her sight. Oscar's face is sure to startle her, if it is the first face she sees. Grosse has accordingly requested me to be present (as the only other young man in the room), and to place myself so that I shall be the first person who attracts her notice. Ask him yourself, Madame Pratolungo, if you don't believe me."
"Of course I believe you!" I answered. "It is useless to dispute the surgeon's orders at such a time as this."
With that, I left him; showing just as much annoyance as an unsuspecting woman, in my position, might have naturally betrayed--and no more.
Knowing, as I did, what was going on under the surface, I understood only too plainly what had happened. Nugent had caught at the opportunity which the surgeon had innocently offered to him, as a means of misleading Lucilla at the moment, and (possibly) of taking some base advantage of her afterwards. I trembled inwardly with rage and fear, as I turned my back on him. Our one chance was to make sure of his absence, at the critical moment--and, cudgel my brains as I might, how to reach that end successfully was more than I could see.
When I returned to the other persons in the room, Oscar and Lucilla were still occupying the same positions. Mr. Finch had presented himself (at full length) to Herr Grosse. And Jicks was established on a stool in a corner: devouring a rampant horse, carved in bilious-yellow German gingerbread, with a voracious relish wonderful and terrible to see.
"Ah, my goot Madame Pratolungo!" said Herr Grosse, stopping on his way to Lucilla to shake hands with me. "Have you made anodder lofely Mayonnaise?
I have come on purpose with an empty-stomachs, and a wolf's-appetite in fine order. Look at that little Imps," he went on, pointing to Jicks.
"Ach Gott! I believe I am in lofe with her. I have sent all the ways to Germany for gingerbreads for Jick. Aha, you Jick! does it stick in your tooths? Is it nice-clammy-sweet?" He glared benevolently at the child through his spectacles; and tucked my hand sentimentally into the breast of his waistcoat. "Promise me a child like adorable Jick," he said solemnly, "I will marry the first wife you bring me--nice womans, nasty womans, I don't care which. Soh! there is my domestic sentiments laid bare before you. Enough of that. Now for my pretty-Feench!
Come-begin-begin!"
He crossed the room to Lucilla, and called to Nugent to follow him.
"Open the shutters," he said. "Light-light-light, and plenty of him, for my lofely Feench!"
Nugent opened the shutters, beginning with the lower window, and ending with the window at which Lucilla was sitting. Acting on this plan, he had only to wait where he was, to place himself close by her--to be the first object she saw. He did it. The villain did it. I stepped forward, determined to interfere--and stopped, not knowing what to say or do. I could have beaten my own stupid brains out against the wall. There stood Nugent right before her, as the surgeon turned his patient towards the window. And not the ghost of an idea came to me!
The German stretched out his hairy hands, and took hold of the knot of the bandage to undo it.
Lucilla trembled from head to foot.
Herr Grosse hesitated--looked at her--let go of the bandage-and lifting one of her hands, laid his fingers on her pulse.
In the moment of silence that followed, I had one of my inspirations. The missing idea turned up in my brains at last.
"Soh!" cried Grosse, dropping her hand with a sudden outbreak of annoyance and surprise. Who has been frightening my pretty Feench? Why these cold trembles? these sinking pulses? Some of you tell me--what does it mean?"
Here was my opportunity! I tried my idea on the spot.
"It means," I said, "that there are too many people in this room. We confuse her, and frighten her. Take her into her bedroom, Herr Grosse; and only let the rest of us in, when you think right--one at a time."
Our excellent surgeon instantly seized on my idea, and made it his own.
"You are a phenix among womens," he said, paternally patting me on the shoulder. "Which is most perfectest, your advice or your Mayonnaise, I am at a loss to know." He turned to Lucilla, and raised her gently from her chair. "Come into your own rooms with me, my poor little Feench. I shall see if I dare take off your bandages to-day."
Lucilla clasped her hands entreatingly.
"You promised!" she said. "Oh, Herr Grosse, you promised to let me use my eyes to-day!"
"Answer me this!" retorted the German. "Did I know, when I promised, that I should find you all shaky-pale, as white as my shirts when he comes back from the wash?"
"I am quite myself again," she pleaded faintly. "I am quite fit to have the bandage taken off."
"What! you know better than I do? Which of us is surgeon-optic--you or me? No more of this. Come under my arms! Come into the odder rooms!"
He put her arm in his, and walked with her to the door. There, her variable humour suddenly changed. She rallied on the instant. Her face flushed; her courage came back. To my horror, she snatched her arm away from the surgeon, and refused to leave the room.
