XII
Doctor Graesler visited his little patient every morning; afterwards, with due regard to the possibility of endangering Katharina's health, he usually took a half hour's walk before returning home. The case, which had started off rather threateningly, took a surprisingly light course, and after the anxiety and excitement of the first few days had passed, Frau Sommer appeared a very affable, cheerful, nay, even talkative lady; moreover—be this construed as accident or design—by no chance did she pay any attention to whether the kimono in which she received her child's physician was wrapped about her throat and breast as carefully as the strictest decorum might have demanded. She never neglected to inquire after the health of Graesler's "little friend," as she liked to call Katharina; she asked him whether he intended to take his sweetheart to Africa with him—for she had determined upon this to indicate Graesler's winter destination—or whether there was already some other beauty, perhaps a black one, longingly awaiting him there; and finally she insisted on pressing a bag of chocolate-drops upon him as a present for Katharina. He thought it best to decline them, however, in view of the danger of contagion. On the other hand, Katharina never tired of referring to the young widow in terms which, even allowing for an element of jealousy in her scorn, did not seem entirely unjustified according to Graesler's own impression. Even during the life of her husband, who had been a travelling man and had seldom spent much time at home, Frau Sommer's reputation had not been of the very best; she already had her little girl when she was married, and it was regarded as doubtful whether her husband was also the father of the child. All this was imparted to Katharina by the printer's wife, with whom, during the few
