The scenes in Martha's sick room are portrayed with an art that makes them live in our memory. Here is one of them, Martha lies in bed sick unto death. Olga and Robert, wearied out with sleepless nights and with their terrible anxiety, are watching her.
"There was absolute silence in the half-darkened room; only the wind with gentle rustling, swept past the window, and the mice scratched among the rafters of the ceiling.
"Robert buried his face in his hands and listened to Martha's dismal ravings. Gradually he seemed to grow calmer; his breathing became slower and more regular; now and again his head inclined to one side, but the next moment he drew it up again.
"Sleep overpowered him, I wanted to persuade him to go to bed but I was feared at the sound of my own voice and kept silent.
"The upper part of his body leaned over more and more frequently to one side; at times his hair touched my cheek, and groping he sought a support.
"And then suddenly his head sank down on my shoulder and remained there.
"My body trembled as if an incredible happiness had befallen me, I was seized with an irresistible desire to stroke the bushy hair that fell over my face. Close to my eyes I saw a few silver threads. 'He is beginning to get grey,' I thought, 'it is high time that he should know what happiness means,' and then I actually stroked his hair.
"He sighed in his sleep and tried to place his head more comfortably.
"'He is lying uncomfortably,' I said to myself 'you must get close to him.' I did so. His shoulder lay against mine, and his head sank down on my bosom.
"'You must put your arm round him,' something within me cried out, 'otherwise he cannot find rest!