“It won’t last, I can assure you of that. We’ll give you something for the pain as soon as we have you settled, and you couldn’t do better than Doctor Abrahams, even in Berlin.”

They reached the top and stopped. Being the larger of the two men, the baron stepped forward.

“I think it best, Thaddeus, if I carry him in myself. Two of us might make awkward work of it. If you don’t mind, run ahead to the kitchen door there. Tell Heidi to find Marion and tell her to make a place ready in the courtyard parlor.”

So saying, the baron stooped down and lifted Matthew up in his arms as if he were no more than three years old.

“Hang on, my boy!” he said, then walked toward the east stairs leading up to the courtyard. Already Thaddeus was out of sight ahead of them.

Within ten minutes they had Matthew tolerably comfortable on a wide divan in the ground-floor parlor looking out upon the courtyard. His shoes and socks were off. His father sat at his side, holding an ice pack to the injury. By the time they heard the doctor’s car on the gravel of the front drive, the ice had sufficiently numbed the leg so as to reduce the pain and prevent serious swelling. Some color was beginning to return to Matthew’s pale cheeks.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Aaron,” said the baron, greeting his friend with a shake of the hand.

He led Herr Abrahams to the divan. Thaddeus rose and stepped aside.

“Ice… excellent,” said the doctor, glancing at the leg, then beginning to probe with his fingers.

“Tell me what you feel, boy,” he said, not realizing the baron’s guests were Americans.

“Ow! That hurts!” exclaimed Matthew, forgetting to speak German. Watching from the side, Sabina winced involuntarily even as he cried out.

“I don’t think a translation will be necessary,” said Thaddeus.

The doctor continued to probe, encountering a tender spot every so often, which he knew instantly from Matthew’s exclamations.

After a minute or two he stopped, then rose and spoke to the baron.

He pronounced the fibula broken just above the ankle, probably in only one spot, though perhaps two. He would set it in a plaster cast immediately.

“Can he travel?” the baron asked.

The doctor’s face clouded. Once the cast was dry, it would be possible, he told him, though the likelihood of a completely successful recovery would be greatly increased if he remained where he was for no less than three days. After that the danger would be greatly reduced.

“I’d feel better about it, just to make sure there are no compensating injuries, either higher on the leg, or even in the other leg, if he could remain in bed a day or two,” concluded the doctor.