Every drug that had been reserved from the laboratory of the late Court
apothecary was brought, mixed with the elixir and fused; and he tried
each new mixture on himself, for Frau Schimmel was not to be persuaded to
smell any more elixirs.
She, however, was more studious than ever of the necessities of the
household, and of the material comfort of the doctor and his child, and
when she noticed that her master began to cough as his dead wife had
done, she entreated him to take better care of himself, and not to leave
his son an orphan she also instigated Herr Winckler to beg him to
consider his own welfare and that of the child.
There was yet another thing that made her unhappy.
Her whole heart was wrapped up in little Zeno, and when he was dressed in
his best on feast-days a prettier and nobler looking child than he was
not to be seen.
But the doctor did not seem to have much affection for him; yet in the
evenings when the little one was in bed he went through the same
performance that had been customary during the lifetime of its mother,
and once in a while he would lift the child out of the cradle and press
it to his heart so passionately that the boy, in a fright would struggle
to get away from him and would cry for Frau Schimmel.
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