The latter explained: "When I went in to her she just looked at me, and then I saw at once that she already knew."
"And what did she say?"
"Nothing—nothing at all. She turned her eyes towards the window and was quite still. She asked where you had gone, Herr Baron, and what you were doing."
George breathed deeply. The door of Anna's room opened. The Professor came out in a black coat. "She is quite quiet," he said to George. "You can go in to her."
"Did she speak to you about it?" asked George.
The Professor shook his head. Then he said: "I am afraid I must go into town now; you'll excuse me, won't you? I hope things will go on all right. I shall be here early to-morrow any way. Good-bye, dear Herr Baron." He pressed his hand sympathetically. "You'll drive in with me, Doctor Stauber, won't you?"
"Yes," said Doctor Stauber, "I only want to say good-bye to Anna." He went.
George turned to the Professor. "May I ask you something?"
"Please do."
"I should very much like to know, Herr Professor, whether this is simply imagination. It seems to me, you know"—and he again lifted up the cloth from the tiny corpse—"as though this child did not look like a new-born one, more beautiful, so to speak. I feel as though the faces of new-born children were bound to be more wrinkled, more like old men. I can't tell you whether I have ever seen one or whether I've only read about it."