From this time he grew rapidly worse. He complained that he could no longer remember what he read, but wished for Busch's 'Bismarck,' the last book with which he tried to occupy himself. He soon became unable to take a walk even in a friend's care, and Dr. Victor von Miller called every day in his carriage to take him to drive in the Prater, where the fresh air somewhat revived him. His strength of will remained phenomenal to the last. He dragged himself to a rehearsal of the Roeger-Soldat Quartet party held at Frau Wittgenstein's less than a fortnight before his death, to hear Weber's Clarinet Quintet with Mühlfeld's co-operation. A performance of the work at Meiningen had particularly pleased him, and its inclusion in the Soldat programme was by his suggestion. In the same week he paid his last visit to the Fabers, and, whilst ascending the staircase to their flat, nearly fainted with pain. Herr Faber revived him, and got him on to the drawing-room sofa, where he sat exhausted, his head on his breast. He was obliged to leave the family dinner-table of some other intimate friends, and, retiring to the next room, sank down in agony. Frau Fellinger was ill at this time, and unable to leave her room. Brahms' last call of inquiry at her house was made on March 19. The master was very gentle during the last months of his life, and touchingly grateful for every attention shown him. His evenings were of necessity passed in his rooms, for he firmly refused all the entreaties of his friends that he would take up his abode in one or another house. Every evening at dusk he used to place himself at the piano, and improvise softly for about half an hour, and when too tired to continue, would sit by the window gazing out on the familiar scene till long after darkness had set in. On March 24 Frau Door, who had always been a favourite with him, called to take him a bunch of violets. She was not admitted, but, observing Dr. von Miller's carriage before the house door, waited near the entrance, hoping to see Brahms pass out. He came down in about half an hour leaning on his friend's arm, and, noticing Frau Door, gave her his hand. 'I am very ill' (Mir geht es sehr schlecht), he answered faintly to her inquiry. He did not go out again. The next day Conrat was admitted, and was sitting talking quietly with him, when Brahms, who was on the sofa smoking, suddenly dropped his head. 'There must be something in it,' he muttered. Conrat gently left the room without disturbing him. On the 26th the physician wrote word to Frau Fellinger that all chance of moving him was over. Brahms did not leave his bed again. His two or three closest friends were constantly at his side, whilst his landlady, Frau Truxa, was his faithful and devoted nurse. He spoke little during the last days, and was too weak to notice much of what was passing in his room, but he managed on the 29th to write a few pencil lines from his bed to Frau Caroline: