Midwinter Nightingale Read Online Free PDF Page B

finely—finely—did I not?”
    The grip was at once relaxed; the baron stepped frombehind the door, revealing himself as a frail-looking elderly man with snowy white locks which, in prison fashion, he wore loose to his shoulders. He was not above middle height, but so thin he seemed taller. He wore a suit of rich black velvet and his white shirt was of the finest cambric. His face wore at all times a look of immense mildness and innocence, replaced only very rarely—as now—by a twist of puckish humor.
    “There—there! It was too bad of me to put you in a fright! On our last evening too! I believe you really thought I had returned to the bad old days. Did you not? When I had to be held down by eight men before you could oblige me to take the pill. Never fear, my dear Doctor! Those times are gone beyond recall. Now I can hardly remember them without abhorrence. Why, nowadays I 'welcome the pill with gratitude—with fervor!”
    The doctor had in fact been badly startled, and it took him a minute to recover.
    “Shall I stay, sir?” suggested the guard, a trifle uneasily.
    “No, my good man, that will not be necessary,” Baron Magnus told him with a patient smile.
    But the guard kept his eye on the doctor, who finally gave him a nod.
    The man withdrew, but murmured, “I'll be right outside, Doctor, if you should want me…. Just give a call.” And, when outside the closed door, he recommenced whistling, to show that he was within earshot.
    Baron Magnus frowned, shrugged, murmured,“Odious, odious noise! Repulsive tune! I wonder if he is aware how much I hate all tunes?
Perhaps
not …But the poor fellow means no harm, I feel
almost
certain….” And he moved toward the table, while the doctor, opening his bag, withdrew a small phial, containing one white pill, and a silver flask, from which he poured a portion of port wine into a glass that stood ready for him.
    The cell occupied by Baron Magnus was wedge-shaped, accommodated to the round tower that contained it. The furnishings were simple—a bed, a table, two chairs and a curtain across one corner, where toilet things were housed. Meagre light from two small slit windows high up was augmented by many candles. The dark stone walls were hung with rich tapestries embroidered with forests where wolves, stags and huntsmen endlessly pursued one another among many-branched trees. Costly carpets covered the floor.
    “How piercingly sad this is!” sighed the baron, reseating himself at the table. “How very,
very
much I shall miss our evening conferences, my dear doctor! They have furnished the gladsome summit of each day. And yet, my good friend,” he added, as the doctor approached him with the glass of port in one hand and the pill, a very large one, held between finger and thumb, in the other, “yet, my dear doctor, my days passed in this unsought, unplanned seclusion have not been wasted— far from it.” He pointed to a massive pile of leather-bound volumes stacked against the wall.
    “All these works have been imbibed, absorbed, committedto memory. I emerge from custody a far wiser, better-informed being than the sad, resentful fellow who first reluctantly entered this melancholy edifice. I shall have so much to impart to my dear wife—ah—forgive me!” he said, as the doctor, startled, spilled a splash of port wine on the tablecloth. “Allow me!” The baron pulled a snowy kerchief from his pocket and wiped away the drop of wine. In doing so he accidentally flicked the pill that Dr. Blisland was proffering. It fell on the carpet.
    “Forgive me!” the baron exclaimed again, and bent from his chair to retrieve the pill. “Here it is, quite safe! I shall swallow it forthwith.” He did so. “And now I shall imbibe this superlative wine, which I suspect, my dear sir, is furnished from your own cellar—am I not right? I do not believe that the prison medical service would ever supply such a superior vintage. But I seem to have surprised you, dear Dr.