In Erika's boudoir she walks to and fro a couple of times, then sits down and takes up a book, but it soon drops in her lap unread. For weeks she has felt no interest in the comfortless philosophy of the books which were formerly her favourites. The book slips to the floor; she does not stoop to pick it up; with hands clasped in her lap she ponders upon many things that had not been wont to occupy her thoughts. She never notices a bustle in the hotel most unusual at this, the dull season, until Lüdecke opens the door and announces, "Your Excellency, Herr von Sydow wishes to know if he may come up, or if your Excellency----"
She starts. "Herr von Sydow!" she repeats. "Show him up,--very softly, of course: Countess Erika is asleep."
A moment afterwards he enters the room.
At first she hardly recognizes him. His features are sharper; the hair about his temples is gray.
"My dear child, you here?" she says, cordially, rising and advancing a few steps to meet him.
He kisses her hand. "I learned only three days ago that she is ill. How is she?"
"Erika?"
"Who else could it be?" he replies, impatiently.
"The disease is cured; but she does not get well. She gains no strength. She has not improved in the last ten days; she has no appetite, takes no interest in anything. She is always weary."
"What does her physician say?" Goswyn is sitting beside his old friend, leaning forward and listening eagerly to every word that falls from her lips. Both speak very softly.