Two hours passed. Miss Sophy was asleep; Erika still waked and watched. A light rain had begun to fall; the drops pattered against the window-panes.
Once more Erika arose and crept out into the corridor. Trembling in every limb, she stood at the door of the room through which her mother's sleeping-apartment was reached. It was ajar, and light streamed through the crack. She looked in. Strachinsky was seated at a table, playing whist with three dummies. It had for some time past been his favourite occupation. A maid stood in a corner, arranging a pile of linen. Erika was about to address her, when Frau Jelinek, her black leathern bag on her arm, came out of her mother's bedroom.
"May I not go to mamma,--just for a moment?" the girl asked, in an agitated whisper.
The bedroom door opened again, and Minna appeared. "Is it you, child?"
"Yes, yes," Erika made answer.
"Do not disturb your mother. Stay in your room till you are called," Minna said, authoritatively.
And from the room came the poor mother's weary, gentle voice: "Go lie down, my child; don't sit up any longer; go to bed, dear."
For a while Erika stood motionless; then she kissed the hard cold door that would not open to her, and went back to her room. She lay down on the bed, dressed as she was, and this time she fell asleep. On a sudden she sat upright. The candle on the table was still burning, and by its light she saw that Miss Sophy, who had been sleeping on the sofa, was sitting up, awake, and listening, with a startled air.
Erika hurried out; Minna met her in the corridor, and at the same moment a vehicle rattled into the courtyard.
"The doctor!" exclaimed Minna. "Thank God!"