He got them a doctor, against General Triscoe's will; he went for his medicines; he lent him books and papers; he sat with him and tried to amuse him.

But with the girl he attempted no return to the situation at Carlsbad; there is nothing like the delicate pride of a young man who resolves to forego unfair advantage in love.
The day after their arrival, when her father was making up for the sleep he had lost by night, she found herself alone in the little reading-room of the hotel with Burnamy for the first time, and she said: "I suppose you must have been all over Weimar by this time." "Well, I've been here, off and on, almost a month.

It's an interesting place.

There's a good deal of the old literary quality left." "And you enjoy that! I saw"-- she added this with a little unnecessary flush--"your poem in the paper you lent papa." "I suppose I ought to have kept that back.

But I couldn't." He laughed, and she said: "You must find a great deal of inspiration in such a literary place." "It isn't lying about loose, exactly." Even in the serious and perplexing situation in which he found himself he could not help being amused with her unliterary notions of literature, her conventional and commonplace conceptions of it.