Aunt Louisa began to cry.
“Don’t cry,” said Ursula, almost impatiently; “I don’t cry.”
“Otto and baby!” sobbed the Freule—“oh, Ursula, Otto and baby!”
“Yes, doesn’t it seem strange?” said Ursula, staring in front of her.
After a moment’s pause she added, “Aunt Louisa, somebody must go at once, I suppose, for the doctor, and also for the notary. Mustn’t they?” She went across and rang the bell.
“Anton,” she said, “two messengers must be off instantly, one to the doctor, one to the notary. No time must be lost. Anton, your master is dead. And the Jonker is dead also.”
The man’s face grew white, and his eyes overflowed. Ursula turned hastily away.
The notary was the first to arrive. The widow received him alone. After the usual preliminaries of condolence he told her that Otto had left no will.
“I am sure of it,” said the notary, “for he talked the matter over with me. Before the child’s birth he was anxious to disinherit the old Baroness, his mother. When I told him that this would be quite impossible, he said there was no use in his making a will.”