The physician said that perhaps there might still be a chance to save my wife by injecting another's blood into her veins, and that, at all events, the attempt should be made. Johanna immediately declared her readiness, and though her offer was well meant, the manner in which it was made jarred on my feelings. She said that, as a daughter, she had the first right; but, if they did not want her blood her child must be willing.
The physician declared that neither her blood nor that of her child would serve the purpose.
The choice now lay between Martella and Annette, and when the physician decided in favor of Martella, her face brightened, and she exclaimed:
"Take my blood--every drop of it--all that I have."
Some of Martella's blood was injected into my wife's veins, and during the night, she gained in strength. But it was very sad to find that she had almost lost her hearing, and that the only medium of pleasure yet left her was the sense of sight.
Martha, the eldest daughter of the kreis-director, had painted a picture of the view from our balcony, looking towards the woods down by the stone wall, and now brought it to my wife, who was delighted with it. The only figure was a hunter coming out of the woods.
Martha told us that she could not draw figures, and that Annette had been kind enough to sketch the huntsman for her; and she kissed my wife's hands on hearing her say, "I think the hunter looks like our grandson, Julius."
It was on the 22d of July, when she said, "Have a little pine-tree brought for me, from my woods, and placed here beside my bed."
I sent Rothfuss out to the woods; he brought a little pine, placed it in a flower-pot, and I observed, while he was leaning over it, how his tears dropped upon the branches.
He turned around to me and said, "I hope that will not harm the little tree."