She was silent and looked at him.
He remembered the evening when he had sat by her side at the Munich opera, as though enveloped in a transparent veil of the notes he loved so well. But he said nothing about it.
It grew dark. Anna's features began to grow dim. "Are you going to town to-day?" she asked.
He had not thought of doing so. But he now felt as though a kind of relief were beckoning to him. Yes, he would go in. What, after all, could he do out here? But he did not answer at once.
Anna began again: "I think you would perhaps like to speak to your brother."
"Yes, I should like to very much. I suppose you are going to sleep soon?"
"I hope so."
"How tired you must be," he said as he stroked her arm.
"No, it is rather different. I feel so awake ... I can't tell you how awake I feel.... It seems as though I had never been so awake in my whole life. And I know at the same time that I'm going to sleep more deeply than I ever have ... as soon as I've once closed my eyes."
"Yes, of course you will. But may I stay a bit longer with you? I'd really like to go on sitting here till you've fallen asleep."