He jumped up, and with hands outstretched like a blind man he turned towards the window. Suddenly his arms dropped; he staggered and fell upon the couch, striking his head against the wall. Once more he turned towards his father, and opened his eyes with difficulty. Large tears stood in them. Adler, utterly overcome and trembling all over, sat down near him, and wiped the tears from his eyes and the froth from his lips with his large hands. "Ferdinand ... Ferdinand," he whispered, "be quiet.... You shall live.... You shall have all I possess." Suddenly he felt his son getting heavy on his arms and dropping. "Doctor! Bring him round! He is fainting!" "Pan Adler, you had better go out of the room," said the doctor. "Why should I go out of the room when my son is in need of my help?" "He is no longer in need of it!" Adler looked at his son, gripped him tightly, shook him. A large patch of blood had appeared on the bandage which covered his chest. Ferdinand was dead. Frenzy seized the old man. He jumped up from the couch, kicked over the chair, knocked against the doctor, and ran out into the courtyard and from there into the road. On the road he met one of the van-drivers bringing in the cotton. He seized him by the shoulders. "Do you know my son is dead?" he shouted. He flung the man on the ground and ran on to the porter's lodge. "Hallo, there! Call up all the men! Let them all come in front of my house!" He ran back to his dead son's room as fast as he had run out of it, sat down, and looked and looked at him in silence for half an hour. Then he suddenly started up. "What does this silence mean?" he asked. "Has the machinery broken down?" "You ordered all the hands to be called up, sir," answered Johann, "so they stopped the machinery, and are now waiting in the yard." "What for? There is no reason for them to wait! Let them go back to work, and weave and spin and make a noise...." He clasped his head with both hands. "My son!... My son!... My son!..." Someone had sent for the pastor, and he now came hurrying into the room, weeping. "Gottlieb!" he cried, "God has greatly afflicted you; but let us trust His mercy." Adler gave him a lingering glance, then pointed to his son's dead body and said: "Look, Martin! that is myself; it is not his corpse, it is my own. There lies my factory, my fortune, my hope. But no! ... he is alive!... Tell me that, and I shall be calm. How my heart aches!..." The pastor led him away into the garden, the doctor and the seconds left, the servants dispersed. "Do you know what is the worst of it?" continued Adler. "In a year's time, or perhaps sooner, the doctors will discover a way of curing such wounds; but what will be the good of that to me? I would have given everything now for such a discovery." The pastor took his hand. "Gottlieb, how long is it since you have prayed?" "I don't know ... thirty--forty years." "Do you remember your prayers?" "I remember that I had a son."