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a few words. And so he informed her that he had arrived safely, found his home in the very best order, held a serious but not definitive conference with his old friend Boehlinger, and, so as not to let time pass unprofitably, would to-morrow visit the infirmary, where, as he had told her on occasion, an old university colleague of his was head of a division. He hastily signed himself, "With very best regards, your sincere friend Emil," and hurried out again into the street to take the letter to the station, so that it might still travel to its destination by the night train.

The following morning Doctor Graesler visited the infirmary, as he had promised in his letter to Sabine. Cordially welcomed by the doctor in charge, he asked permission to accompany the latter on his round of visits to the wards. He followed everything with an attention which pleased himself most, inquired into the progress and treatment of noteworthy cases, and even ventured a few differences of opinion, invariably using some such qualifying phrase as, "In so far as we physicians at health-resorts succeed in maintaining some association with theoretical medicine." He took lunch with several assistants in a modest restaurant across from the hospital, and got so much enjoyment from the company of his young colleagues and from their technical conversation that he made up his mind to return there often. On his way home he procured the theatre tickets, and at home he turned the pages of medical books and periodicals, getting more absent-minded as the hour advanced, partly in expectation of some word from Sabine, and partly in vague speculation upon the probable progress of the approaching evening. In order to be armed against all possible emergencies, he decided to have on hand some cold refreshments and a few bottles of wine—which, after all, did not obligate him in any way. He left his lodgings, attended to the necessary purchases, and had them sent to his house; and a few minutes before seven he was strolling up and down the Wilhelmstrasse, this time without the romantic headpiece of the day before, but—so as to make a less showy appearance and also, as he fancied, to put the genuineness of Katharina's feelings to the test—in his old and familiar stiff black hat. He was just looking at a window-display when he heard the sound of Katharina's voice behind him.