Even the few forms he gives me will find two half-starved women in housekeeping money for a week."It was all very plausible;and perhaps (in my innocent days before I met with Frau Meyer)I might have thought it quite likely to be true.In my present frame of mind,I only asked the widow if I might see her sketch.
She shook her head,and sheltered the drawing-book again under her shawl.
"It is little better than a memorandum at present,"she explained."Wait till I have touched it up,and made it saleable--and I will show it to you with pleasure.You will not make mischief,Mr.David,by mentioning my act of artistic invasion to either of the old gentlemen?It shall not be repeated--I give you my word of honor.There is poor Joseph,too.You don't want to ruin a well-meaning lad,by getting him turned out of his place?Of course not!We part as friends who understand each other,don't we?Minna would have sent her love and thanks,if she had known I was to meet you.Good-night."She ran downstairs,humming a little tune to herself,as blithe as a young girl.I heard a momentary whispering with Joseph in the hall.Then the house-door closed--and there was an end of Madame Fontaine for that time.
After no very long reflection,I decided that my best course would be to severely caution Joseph,and to say nothing to the partners of what had happened--for the present,at least.I should certainly do mischief,by setting the two old friends at variance again on the subject of the widow,if I spoke;to say nothing (as another result)of the likelihood of Joseph's dismissal by Mr.Keller.Actuated by these reasonable considerations,I am bound frankly to add that I must have felt some vague misgivings as well.Otherwise,why did I carefully examine Mr.
Keller's room (before I returned to the theater),without any distinct idea of any conceivable discovery that I might make?Not the vestige of a suspicious appearance rewarded my search.The room was in its customary state of order,from the razors and brushes on the toilet-table to the regular night-drink of barley-water,ready as usual in the jug by the bedside.
I left the bedchamber at last.Why was I still not at my ease?Why was Irude enough,when I thought of the widow,to say to myself,"Damn her!"Why did I find Gluck's magnificent music grow wearisome from want of melody as it went on?Let the learned in such things realize my position,and honor me by answering those questions for themselves.
We were quite gay at supper;the visit to the theater had roused the spirits of the two partners,by means of a wholesome break in the monotony of their lives.I had seldom seen Mr.Keller so easy and so cheerful.Always an abstemious man,he exercised his usual moderation in eating and drinking;and he was the first to go to bed.But,while he was with us,he was,in the best sense of the word,a delightful companion;and he looked forward to the next opera night with the glee of a schoolboy looking forward to a holiday.
CHAPTER XVIII
The breakfast-room proved to be empty when I entered it the next morning.
It was the first time in my experience that I had failed to find Mr.
Keller established at the table.He had hitherto set the example of early rising to his partner and to myself.I had barely noticed his absence,when Mr.Engelman followed me into the room with a grave and anxious face,which proclaimed that something was amiss.
"Where is Mr.Keller?"I asked.
"In bed,David."
"Not ill,I hope?"
"I don't know what is the matter with him,my dear boy.He says he has passed a bad night,and he can't leave his bed and attend to business as usual.Is it the close air of the theater,do you think?""Suppose I make him a comfortable English cup of tea?"I suggested.
"Yes,yes!And take it up yourself.I should like to know what you think of him."Mr.Keller alarmed me in the first moment when I looked at him.Adreadful apathy had possessed itself of this naturally restless and energetic man.He lay quite motionless,except an intermittent trembling of his hands as they rested on the counterpane.His eyes opened for a moment when I spoke to him--then closed again as if the effort of looking at anything wearied him.He feebly shook his head when I offered him the cup of tea,and said in a fretful whisper,"Let me be!"I looked at his night-drink.The jug and glass were both completely empty."Were you thirsty in the night?"In the same fretful whisper he answered,"Horribly!""Are you not thirsty now?"He only repeated the words he had first spoken--"Let me be!"There he lay,wanting nothing,caring for nothing;his face looking pinched and wan already,and the intermittent trembling still at regular intervals shaking his helpless hands.
We sent at once for the physician who had attended him in trifling illnesses at former dates.
The doctor who is not honest enough to confess it when he is puzzled,is a well-known member of the medical profession in all countries.Our present physician was one of that sort.He pronounced the patient to be suffering from low (or nervous)fever--but it struck Mr.Engelman,as it struck me,that he found himself obliged to say something,and said it without feeling sure of the correctness of his own statement.He prescribed,and promised to pay us a second visit later in the day.
Mother Barbara,the housekeeper,was already installed as nurse.Always a domestic despot,she made her tyranny felt even in the sick-room.She declared that she would leave the house if any other woman presumed to enter it as nurse."When my master is ill,"said Mother Barbara,"my master is my property."It was plainly impossible that a woman,at her advanced age,could keep watch at the bedside by day and night together.
In the interests of peace we decided on waiting until the next day.If Mr.Keller showed no signs of improvement by that time,I undertook to inquire at the hospital for a properly qualified nurse.
