"Ernestine," Johannes cried in despair, "it is I,--Johannes. No one shall harm you!"
But she either did not hear or did not understand him, and she struggled so that Johannes could scarcely hold her.
"This is dreadful!" said the Staatsräthin, supporting Gretchen's tottering form. "Do you still think, Father Heim, after this, that physiology is the study for a woman's nerves? Can a woman's nature take a more terrible revenge than this?"
Heim shook his head, and grumbled, "Frail stuff, indeed, but yet I thought she could stand it. Well, well, one is never too old to learn."
And still Ernestine raved on, ceaselessly haunted by the same grim phantoms created by the fearful struggle that she had lately passed through.
At last exhaustion supervened, and she lay perfectly silent and motionless. Heim took his hat and cane. "I think she will have a quieter night. You should take some rest, Johannes. You cannot stand such uninterrupted watching."
"I have done all that I could to persuade him to lie down," said his mother. "I can easily watch one night, especially now since I have such a dear little assistant. And Willmers too will wear herself out. She is as obstinate as Johannes."
"There is nothing to be done with him," said Heim. "It is a good thing that it is vacation, or this would soon come to an end. Well, I must go. It is quite a drive to town."
"It would have been better if we could have taken her home with us," said the Staatsräthin. "But the illness was so sudden and violent that she could not be moved, and we had to come out here to nurse her."
"You are good people!" And Heim held out his hand to them. "God will reward you for your kindness to the poor child."