“Because I am an empty, restless, modern creature?”
“You are not that.”
“What am I then, Cordt?”
He took her hand and kissed it and smiled to her:
“You are my wife, Adelheid. And we have a little baby, we two, and perhaps will have another.”
“No,” she said and drew her hand away. “No, Cordt. That was only my nonsense.”
He said nothing. His hand fell down slackly and he turned paler than she could remember ever having seen him. She was afraid that he was ill and stooped over him and called to him.
He did not see her, did not hear her.
She could not take her eyes from him. She thought he could not look more distressed if their boy were dead. She felt it as an appalling shame, that she herself was glad of it; and she dreaded lest he should look at her.
Then he did and read her thoughts.