Doctor Stauber came out of the next room and gently closed the door. "Anna is expecting you," he said to George. The latter gave him his hand, shook hands with the Professor again, nodded to Frau Golowski and went into the next room. The nurse got up from Anna's side and disappeared out of the room. Opposite the door hung a mirror in which George saw an elegant young gentleman who was pale and was smiling. Anna lay in her bed, which stood clear in the middle of the room, with big clear eyes, which looked straight at George. "What kind of a figure do I cut?" he thought. He pushed the chair close to her bed with some ceremoniousness, sat down, grasped her hand, put it to his forehead and then kissed her fingers long and almost ardently. Anna was the first to speak. "You were in the garden?" she asked. "Yes, I was in the garden." "I saw you come down from the top some time ago." "You had better not talk, Anna. Don't you feel it a strain?" "These few words! Oh no. But you can tell me something...." He was holding her hand in his all the time and looking at her fingers. Then he said: "Do you know that there is a little summer-house at the top end of the garden? Yes, of course you know.... I only mean, we'd never properly realised it." "I was in there a few times during the first week," said Anna. "I don't like it." "No, indeed!" "Have you done any work this morning?" she then asked. "What an idea, Anna!" She shook her head quite gently. "And recently you have been getting on so well with it." He smiled. She remained serious. "You were in town yesterday?" she asked. "You know I was." "Did you find any letters? I mean important ones." "You should really not talk so much, Anna. I'll tell you everything right enough. Well then, I found no letters of any importance. There was nothing from Detmold either. Anyway, I'll go and see Professor Viebiger one of these days. But we can talk about these things another time, don't you think? And so far as work goes ... I've been having another look at _Tristan_ this morning. I even know it down to the smallest detail. I could trust myself to conduct it to-day, if it came to the point." She was silent and looked at him. He remembered the evening when he had sat by her side at the Munich opera, as though enveloped in a transparent veil of the notes he loved so well. But he said nothing about it. It grew dark. Anna's features began to grow dim. "Are you going to town to-day?" she asked. He had not thought of doing so. But he now felt as though a kind of relief were beckoning to him. Yes, he would go in. What, after all, could he do out here? But he did not answer at once. Anna began again: "I think you would perhaps like to speak to your brother." "Yes, I should like to very much. I suppose you are going to sleep soon?" "I hope so." "How tired you must be," he said as he stroked her arm.