"Why are you dressing?"
"Well, the broken window must be mended with something to prevent the draught coming in; it is in mother's bedroom. You can sleep on peacefully."
Then he placed his hand on my head, and that hand was like ice.
"Is it cold outside, Lorand?"
"No."
"Then why does your hand tremble so?"
"True; it is very cold. Sleep on, little Desi."
As he went out he left an intermediate door open for a moment; and in that moment the sound of mother's laughter reached my ears. That well-known ringing sweet voice, that indicates those naïve women who among their children are themselves the greatest children.
What could cause mother to laugh so loudly at this late hour of the night? Because the window was broken? At that time I did not yet know that there is a horrible affliction which attacks women with agonies of hell, and amidst these heart-rending agonies forces them to laugh incessantly.
I comforted myself with what my brother had said, and forcibly buried my head in my pillow that I might compel myself to fall asleep.