“Don’t you want to see your Eleanore before the coffin is closed?” asked Philippina in a hollow voice.
He never moved; the twitchings of his face were terrible to behold.
Beside him on the table was some cold food; also some bread and apples.
They carried the coffin out. He felt that where his heart once was there was now a dark, empty space. The church bell rang, the rain splashed against the window panes.
During the second night he felt his soul suddenly become incoherent, lax. This was followed by a brief flaring up within him, whereupon his eyes were filled with hot, burning tears. He resigned himself to the situation without audible display of grief; he felt all of a sudden that he had now for the first time in his life really sensed the beauty of the pure triad in the major key.
Another day passed by. He could hear old Jordan walking about in the room above him, ceaselessly and with heavy tread. He felt cold; Philippina came in; he asked her to get him a blanket. Philippina was most eager to be of service to him. The door bell rang; Philippina opened.
Before her stood a lady and a gentleman. There was something so refined about them that Philippina did not dare raise any objections when they quietly came in and went straight to the living room: the door had not been closed, and they could see Daniel lying on the sofa.
Daniel looked at them quite indifferently. Gradually he began to collect his thoughts, to compose himself, to come to himself.
His guests were Eberhard von Auffenberg and his cousin, Sylvia von Erfft. They were betrothed.