She looked at the broad roadway, stretching straight from the cemetery gate to the opposite wall, and all at once she knew, for a positive fact, that in a few days a coffin, with the corpse of Frau Rupius within it, would be borne along that road. She wanted to banish the idea, but the picture was there in full detail; the hearse was standing before the gate; the grave, which two men were digging yonder just at that moment, was destined for Frau Rupius; Herr Rupius was waiting by the open grave. He was sitting in his invalid chair, his plaid rug across his knees, and was staring at the coffin, which the black-garbed undertakers were slowly carrying along.... The vision was more than a mere presentiment; it was a precognition.... But whence had this idea come to her? Then she heard people talking behind her. Two women walked past her--one was the widow of a lieutenant-colonel who had recently died, the other was her daughter. Both greeted Bertha and walked slowly on. Bertha thought that these two women would consider her a faithful widow who still grieved for her husband, and she seemed to herself to be an impostor, and she retired hastily. Possibly there would be some news awaiting her at home, a telegram from Emil, perhaps--though that, indeed, would be nothing extraordinary ... after all, the two things were closely connected.... She wondered whether Frau Rupius still thought of what Bertha had told her at the railway station, and whether, perhaps, she would speak of it in her delirium ... however, that was a matter of indifference, indeed. The only matters of importance were that Emil should write and that Frau Rupius should get better.... She would have to call again and see Herr Rupius; he would be sure to tell her what the doctor had had to say.... And Bertha hastened homewards between the vine-trellises down the hill.... Nothing had arrived, no letter, no telegram.... Fritz had gone out with the maid. Ah, how lonely she was. She hurried to Herr Rupius' house once more, and the maid opened the door to her. Things were progressing very badly, Herr Rupius was unable to see anyone.... "But what is the matter with her? Don't you know what the doctor said?" "An inflammation, so the doctor said." "What kind of an inflammation?" "Or it might even be blood poisoning, he said. A nurse from the hospital will be here immediately." Bertha went away. On the square in front of the restaurant a few people were sitting, and one table, right in front, was occupied by some officers, as was usual at that time of the day. They didn't know what was going on up yonder, thought Bertha, otherwise they wouldn't be sitting there and laughing.... Blood poisoning--well, what could that mean?... Obviously Frau Rupius had attempted to commit suicide!... But why?... Because she was unable to go away--or did not wish to?--but she wouldn't die--no, she must not die!