"She hasn't said so, but I believe she does. You know how she is; she doesn't want to disturb you and make you anxious. But I think it would be well."
"All right, Roswitha, I will come."
Before the clock began to strike Mrs. von Briest mounted the stairway and entered Effi's room. Effi lay on a reclining chair near the open window. Mrs. von Briest drew up a small black chair with three gilt spindles in its ebony back, took Effi's hand and said: "How are you, Effi! Roswitha says you are so feverish."
"Oh, Roswitha worries so much about everything. I could see by her looks she thought I was dying. Well, I don't know. She thinks everybody ought to be as much worried as she is."
"Are you so calm about dying, dear Effi?"
"Entirely calm, mama."
"Aren't you deceiving yourself? Everybody clings to life, especially the young, and you are still so young, dear Effi."
Effi remained silent for a while. Then she said: "You know, I haven't read much. Innstetten was often surprised at it, and he didn't like it."
This was the first time she had mentioned Innstetten's name, and it made a deep impression on her mother and showed clearly that the end was come.
"But I thought," said Mrs. von Briest, "you were going to tell me something."