Vogt had risen at his entrance. Andreae nodded to him, and pointing to Klitzing, asked: "Has he never recovered consciousness?"
The medical-officer then bent his head to the injured man's chest, and listened to his breathing for some time. Finally he felt his pulse. The hand fell back as if lifeless upon the coverlet.
"Unfortunately you are right," he said to Rademacher; and as the other looked questioningly at him he added, shrugging his shoulders, "Nothing can be done."
So saying he went up to Vogt, and laid his hand kindly upon the young man's arm: "Dr. Rademacher has told me," he said, "how the poor fellow sacrificed himself for your sake. It grieves me very much to have to say it, but I cannot hide the truth from you. Your friend has indeed given his life for yours; he has but a short time to live."
Vogt remained fixed in the stiff soldierly attitude he had assumed; otherwise he felt he would have fallen to the ground. "Then, sir," he stammered, "will he never wake up again?"
"That no one can tell," answered the surgeon. "I hardly think so."
"Yes, certainly. You are quartered here for to-night. You yourself are invalided in any case, and to-morrow your friend will not last till then, I fear, probably not even till this evening. So pull yourself together, my man, and be proud that you have had such a brave fellow for a friend. Friendship even unto death! There are not many like that nowadays. God knows, I wish we could help the poor fellow!"
Andreae was quite affected by the unusual circumstances of the case; but he had other duties, and dared not indulge his feelings. He drew himself up, and continued in firm tones: "We must dress your wound for you too, Vogt; but first I ought to set the driver's leg."
"We must go," he said, turning to the others; "the gunner will remain with his comrade for the present."
Vogt followed the doctor with his eyes. When the door closed he turned them towards the pale face of his dear friend. It was true then? Klitzing had given his life for him. And no one could do anything to help. There was a hot sensation in his throat, and then at last his sorrow found relief in a flood of tears.
After a time he looked again at his friend. How white he looked as he lay there! And how thin the face appeared against the white sheet! Klitzing had indeed refined, distinguished-looking features, and one could easily take him for a real gentleman lying in that magnificent bed, if the shabby dust-covered uniform were not hanging over the back of the chair close by. Vogt remembered how he had sometimes teased his friend about his sickly pallor; he racked his brains to think whether he had not wounded his feelings in other ways, and reproached himself for every harsh word he could remember using towards Klitzing. How much more friendly and affectionate he might often have been!