Then, at last; at last, in the weariness after excess, a
long, soft arpeggio in the minor trickled through, mounted a tone,
resolved itself in the major, and died in mournful lingering away.
Hanno sat still a moment, his chin on his breast, his hands in his lap.
Then he got up and closed the instrument. He was very pale, there was
no strength in his knees, and his eyes were burning. He went into the
next room, stretched himself on the chaise-lounge, and remained for a
long time motionless.
Later there was supper, and he played a game of chess with his mother,
at which neither side won. But until after midnight he still sat in
his room, before his harmonium, and played--played in thought only,
for he must make no noise. He did this despite his firm intention to
get up the next morning at half-past five, to do some most necessary
preparation.
This was one day in the life of little Johann.
CHAPTER III
Cases of typhoid fever take the following course.
The patient feels depressed and moody--a condition which grows rapidly
worse until it amounts to acute despondency. At the same time he is
overpowered by physical weariness, not only of the muscles and sinews,
but also of the organic functions, in particular of the digestion--so
that the stomach refuses food. There is a great desire for sleep,
but even in conditions of extreme fatigue the sleep is restless
and superficial and not refreshing. There is pain in the head, the
brain feels dull and confused, and there are spells of giddiness. An
indefinite ache is felt in all the bones. There is blood from the nose
now and then, without apparent cause.-- This is the onset.
Then comes a violent chill which seizes the whole body and makes the
teeth chatter; the fever sets in, and is immediately at its height.
Little red spots appear on the breast and abdomen, about the size of a
lentil. They go away when pressed by the finger, but return at once.
The pulse is unsteady; there are about a hundred pulsations to the
minute. The temperature goes up to 104°. Thus passes the first week.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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