"If you will be so kind."
Her grandmother makes choice of a new novel of Norris's. As she reads, she looks across the book at Erika: the girl is not listening. The old Countess stops, and drops the book in her lap. Erika is not aware that she has ceased to read.
After a while she looks up. "Grandmother," she asks, gently, "did no letters come while I was ill?"
"Of course," her grandmother replies. "I had letters every day from various friends and acquaintances, asking how you were. Hedwig Norbin is with her married daughter in Via Reggia, and I had to send her bulletins reporting your condition three times a week."
Erika's thin cheeks flush slightly. "And--did no letters come from Berlin?" she asks, with averted face.
Her grandmother hesitates for a moment, and then says, "I do not correspond with any one in Berlin. I have written as few letters as possible during your illness."
Erika's head droops. "How ashamed my grandmother must be for me, if she has not even told Goswyn that I am ill!" she thinks.
For a while there is silence; then Erika whispers, "Grandmother, I am very tired. I should like to lie down."
Her grandmother leads her to a lounge, where she lies down, with her face turned to the wall. She is very quiet. Is she sleeping?
The old Countess softly leaves the room.