280 Hans Brinker

XXXIV

THE AWAKENING

A N angel could not have entered the cottage more noise-
lessly. Gretel, not daring to look at any one, slid
softly to her mother’s side.

The room was very still. She could hear the old doctor
breathe. She could almost hear the sparks as they fell into
the ashes on the hearth. The mother’s hand was very cold;
but a burning spot glowed on her cheek; and her eyes were
like a deer’s, so bright, so sad, so eager.

At last there was a movement upon the bed, very slight,
but enough to cause them all to start. Dr. Boekman leaned
eagerly forward,

Another movement. The large hand, so white and soft
for a poor man’s hand, twitched, then raised itself steadily
toward the forehead.

It felt the bandage, not in a restless, crazy way, but with a
questioning movement, that caused even Dr. Boekmanh to
hold his breath. Then the eyes opened slowly.

“Steady, steady!” said a voice that sounded very strange
to Gretel. “Shift that mat higher, boys! Now throw on
the clay. The waters are rising fast; no time to—”

Dame Brinker sprang forward like a young panther.

She seized his hands, and, leaning over him, cried, “ Raff,
Raff, boy, speak to me! ”