From this time the invalid's mind was filled with schemes of vengeance, and she gradually conceived a mad determination to kill the guilty pair. She felt that she had no time to lose. Her life was nearly spent. She could now only take a few tottering steps; and increasing weakness would soon prevent her leaving her bed.
From under her eyelids she watched the girl's every movement. Oh, how she hated her, this healthy, blooming creature, with her splendid stature, her round white arms, and her magnificent bust! How she hated her! Her freshness, her youth, her beauty, her soft young body with which she had seduced the man, which he had caressed!
And Ida never suspected that vengeance was imminent, that death was near her--nearer even than to the dying woman herself!
The sands ran unceasingly through the hour-glass of the nearly expiring life. Constant and violent attacks of coughing kept the invalid from sleep, until the staff-surgeon prescribed morphia for her in fairly large doses. The poor woman was near death; why should not her last days be lightened, her last sufferings relieved? He cautioned the sergeant-major as to the danger of the drug, warning him to be careful in pouring out the doses.
Julie did not know how to praise the staff-surgeon enough; the rest was such a wonderful refreshment. True that on awaking her limbs felt rather heavy; but at the same time she felt the strengthening effect of the long undisturbed night's sleep. Sometimes she even thought she might begin to hope again; and when she felt particularly well she regained a faint desire for life. That would indeed be the most perfect vengeance, if she could live to spite them both, perhaps for years!
Then her illness once more overcame her; she despaired anew, and hourly planned revenge.
One morning, as she lay on her bed in a kind of stupor, she tried to recall the events of the night. Something had happened which she had seen vaguely through the veil of her torpor. Despite her drowsiness, she had been frightened, horrified by it; yet afterwards the incident had vanished from her memory, and now she was endeavouring to bring back the faint trace into consciousness.
It was just before she had fallen completely asleep, when her senses were becoming dulled, and the final action of the morphia was about to set in, that a slight cough had brought her back from the void, partially arousing her. While in this condition she had perceived that Otto, her husband, had softly raised himself in bed. Sitting up he had listened awhile, then had crept cautiously towards her, and had remained standing by her bed for a long time.
Now she remembered: she had been horribly afraid that he would do her some injury; that with his big strong hands he would take her by the throat and strangle her. She was far too weak to resist him; indeed, she had felt that she had not even the strength to cry out. But nothing of this had happened. He had only stood there motionless by her bedside, looking into her face. She had felt his gaze through eyelids that had closed with fatigue. Then she had gradually sunk into sleep; and just at the very last she fancied she had been aware that her husband was moving away from her bed.
She pressed her hands to her brow as if to prevent the thoughts from escaping. She closed her eyes and forced herself to live again through the events of the night. At last they came back to her, and the memory struck her like a stinging lash, so that she cowered on her bed, clutching the coverlet with her hands, and biting her handkerchief to keep herself from shrieking with horror and hatred.