“When shall I see you again?”
And now a cold sweat broke out on him, and his chin trembled.
“Tomorrow?”
He tried to come toward her, but he found himself near the door instead.
“I’m nothing,” he said, and turned toward her, bent slightly; he wanted to kiss her feet—but nothing helped him.
“You’ve taken everything now, now I cannot feel, I do not suffer——” He tried to look at her—and succeeded finally after a long time.
He could see that she did not know he was in the room.
Then something like horror entered him, and with a soft, swift running gait he reached the door, turned the handle and was gone.
A few days later, at dusk, for his heart was the heart of a dog, he came into Katrina’s street, and looked at the house.
A single length of crape, bowed, hung at the door.