Great was the consternation of Berbel when she heard that the young
lord of Greifenstein had suddenly fallen ill in the house, but she was
not a woman to waste words when time pressed. There was but one thing
to be done. Greif must have Hilda's room and Hilda must take up her
quarters with her mother. His carriage must fetch the physician from
the nearest town, and bring such things as might be necessary. To
Berbel's mind everything seemed already organised, and before any one
had time to make a remark she had set about arranging matters to her
own satisfaction. There was only one difficulty in the way, and that
was Greif himself, who, in spite of his acute suffering had not the
slightest intention of submitting to an illness at Sigmundskron.
In the first moment the pain had altogether overcome him, but he
gradually became so much accustomed to it as to be able to think more
connectedly. The idea of remaining where he was seemed intolerable. To
be taken care of by Frau von Sigmundskron, to be under the same roof
with Hilda, would be to give up the contest for which he had sacrificed
so much. He did not understand that his mind would act very differently
when he had recovered, and that much which seemed disagreeable at
present, might be attractive then.
He rose to his feet without assistance, and he saw that he was alone.
Hilda had gone in one direction and her mother in another in search of
something to alleviate his suffering. To get out of the house was the
work of a moment.
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