In any case, she must wait, she thought. She wondered what Emil would say if _she_ were suddenly to die. Ah, surely it would cause him some slight grief if he had to think that she whom he had held in his arms a few days before now lay mouldering in the grave. He might even weep. Yes, he would weep if she were to die ... wretched egoist though he was at other times.... Ah, but where were her thoughts flying to again? Wasn't she still holding her friend's hand in her own? Oh, if she could only save her!... Who was now in the worse plight--this woman who was doomed to die, or Bertha herself--who had been so ignominiously deceived? Was it necessary, though, to put it so strongly as that, because of one night?... Ah, but that had much too fine a sound!... for the sake of one hour--to humiliate her so--to ruin her so--was not that unscrupulous and shameless?... How she hated him! How she hated him!... If only he were to break down at the next concert, so that all the people would laugh him to scorn, and he would be put to shame, and all the papers would have the news--"The career of Herr Emil Lindbach is absolutely ended." And all his women would say: "Ah, I don't like that a bit, a fiddler who breaks down!"... Yes, then he would probably remember her, the only woman who had loved him since the days of her girlhood, who loved him truly ... and whom he was now treating so basely!... Then he would be sure to come back to her and beg her to forgive him--and she would say to him: "Do you see, Emil; do you see, Emil?"... for, naturally, anything more intelligent than that would not occur to her.... And there she was thinking again of him, always of him--and here somebody was dying, and she was sitting by the bed, and that silent person there was the husband.... It was all so quiet; only from the street, as though wafted up over the balcony and through the open door, came a confused murmur--men's voices, the rumble of the traffic, the jingle of a cyclist's bell, the clattering of a sabre on the pavement, and, now and then, the twitter of the birds--but it all seemed so far away, so utterly unconnected with actuality. Anna became restless and tossed her head to and fro--several times, quickly, quicker and quicker.... "Now it's beginning!" said a soft voice behind Bertha. She turned round. It was the nurse with the cheerful features; but Bertha now perceived that that expression did not denote cheerfulness at all, but was only the result of a strained effort never to allow sorrow to be noticeable, and she considered the face to be indescribably fearful.... What was it the nurse had said?... "Now it's beginning."... Yes, like a concert or a play ... and Bertha remembered that once the same words had been spoken beside her own bed, at the time when she began to feel the pangs of childbirth....