I stood outside his door. I had rushed through the streets, but now that I was here I dared not ring. As soon as I entered the house I seemed to feel the heavy air of a sick-room, and here, outside the door, a sweet, oppressive air crept over me with a curious, choking sensation. When I ring the bell the door will open, and pale and weeping the maid will stand before me. I shall not need to ask any questions. God in heaven, you could not, could not be so cruel. I began to pray, 'Our Father, which art in heaven ...' No, no, not now—God will only be angry and punish me, because I, who never think of Him otherwise, come to Him out of sheer cowardice. I rang the bell; its muffled, soundless ringing startled me. Of course—I said to myself, I even think I smiled—of course they have tied something round the bell so that it shall not disturb him.
Steps sounded within, and the door was opened by a stranger, a tall, commanding-looking woman. She said— I think before I had asked—I suppose she guessed my errand. 'Mr. Mörch is very ill.' God be praised, he still lives! It was diphtheria, the lady explained, and he took ill the night before last. Only the day before I had been with him. The doctor said it was dangerous.
The lady looked as though, in her opinion, it was time for me to go.
I asked, though I knew it was hopeless, if I could be allowed to see him.
'No, Miss, that is quite impossible. The doctor
