A tear splashed on to the note-paper, and he pressed her hand tighter.
"Steady, Frauchen!" he whispered. "I hear some one moving."
They listened breathlessly. A second cab rumbled along the street, but this time they did not hear it. Their whole attention was concentrated on that neighbouring room, where life and death kept their silent vigil, and when suddenly the door was softly opened, both started as though an icy hand had touched them on the shoulder.
A faint light came through the open doorway, and against the pale background Frau von Arnim's figure stood out in all its old noble stateliness. They could not see her face, but they felt that it was composed and resolute in its grief.
"I think they have come," she said. "I heard a cab outside."
Somewhere downstairs a bell rang, and Seleneck rose softly to his feet.
"I will light the lamp," he said, but his hand shook, and his wife took the matches from him.
"Let me do it, Kurt. I am crying—I can't help it; but I am quite steady. Gnädige Frau, how is he?"
"Sleeping," was the answer.
Poor Frau von Seleneck was not as good as her word. She could not manage the wick, and the glass shade threatened to fall from her nervous hands. In the end she lighted the little candles on the Christmas tree.