"'My old lass,' he said feebly, 'I fear I shall give you a great deal to do.'
"'Do you feel so ill?' she asked anxiously, and bent down to him. He groaned and pointed to his head. 'Don't worry Susanna,' he begged.
"Anna Maria did not answer, but she had grown very pale. Then she set about procuring him some relief. Cold compresses were soon lying on his forehead, a cool lemonade stood on the table by the bed, and outside the tired horses were once more taken from the stable, to go for the doctor. It had become quiet in the house, quiet in the next room also. Susanna lay in her boudoir, reading; she did not know that the doctor had been sent for, she did not hear how her husband's talking gradually passed into delirious ravings, or know how his sister sat by the bed, her fair head pressed against the back, and her eyes fixed on him in unspeakable anxiety.
"When the doctor came, Susanna was sleeping sweetly and soundly; and with noiseless steps Isa carried about the awakened child, that it might not disturb the mother.
"Klaus was ill, very ill. The dreadful fever had attacked him so quickly, so insidiously, and had prostrated him with such force, that a paralyzing fear came over the spirits of us all.
"The servants went about the house whispering, no door was heard to shut, and the bailiff had straw laid down in the court, so that no sound might penetrate the curtained sick-room.
"Susanna would not believe at all that Klaus was seriously ill. She had come merrily into the room, the child in her arms, and had found the doctor at the bedside, and looked in Anna Maria's red eyes. She resisted the truth with all her might. 'But he must not be ill,' she cried, 'just now. Oh, doctor, it is too bad!' But when the confirmation in the wandering looks of the invalid was not to be rejected, she flew to her sofa and wept pitifully. It was not possible to reach her with a word of consolation; she sobbed as I had seen her do but once, and Isa knew not which she ought to quiet first, the screaming child or the weeping mother. But Susanna did not for a moment attempt to make her hands useful at the sick-bed.
"The doctor came again toward evening. The fever was raging with increased power; Klaus talked about his child, called for Susanna, and even in his delirium everything centred in his wife. Sometimes he seized Anna Maria's hand and pressed it to his lips, with a half-intelligible pet name for Susanna; he called her his darling, his wife. And Anna Maria stroked his forehead, and tear after tear rolled down her cheeks.
"'Shall I have her called?' I asked the doctor. The old man shrugged his shoulders. 'Well, since she has not come of her own accord, she spares me a great deal of trouble,' said he; 'I should have had to carry her out. She is still weak, and——'
"I went away to look up Susanna. Isa informed me that she was in the salon.