"And then she passed her small hands over her white night-dress. 'Take away the red flowers, Isa!'
"I laid a white cloth over it for her. Poor child! The swoon, the laughing, the sweet singing, that was already fever.
"Old Reuter came into the room and stepped up to the bed. Anna Maria stood behind him, the torment of expectation on her pale face, and from outside, through the unlatched door, came the sound of heavy breathing; that must be Klaus. The old gentleman felt Susanna's pulse long and cautiously; he was not a man of many words, and one could scarcely find out from him what one's disease was; but he turned at last to Anna Maria:
"'A pitiful little lady, Fräulein; the good God made her expressly for a knick-knack table; wrapped in cotton, sent to the South, and treated like a princess, without making any sort of exertion herself, something might yet be made of her. But first'—he drew his watch from his pocket and took hold of her hand again—'first we have enough to do here. Who will undertake the nursing?'
"'Doctor, do you think that bodily exertion—I mean, very early rising and domestic activity—could be the cause?' asked Anna Maria, with faltering voice.
"'Up at four, and from the kitchen into the cold milk-cellar, and then again in the glowing sun, at the bleaching place, and so alternately, was it not?' asked the old gentleman. 'By all means the surest way to completely prostrate a person of such a constitution; moreover, you might have perceived it before, Fräulein.'
"Anna Maria grew a shade paler. 'But day before yesterday she walked for an hour in the heat, and sang a great deal,' I interposed, for I felt sorry for Anna Maria. "'Then one thing has led to another,' declared the old gentleman. 'Singing is poison—no more of that! Will you undertake the nursing, Fräulein Hegewitz?' he asked me.
"'No, I,' replied Anna Maria.
"'Isa! Isa!' called Susanna.
"'Where is she staying?' asked Anna Maria, while Dr. Reuter had gone out to write a prescription.