Love stories, German; Sisters -- Fiction; Suicide victims -- Fiction
Old Hellinger grew pale, and his wife commenced to scream and sob; she
clung to the doctor's arm, and wished to know what had happened; but he
spoke no further word.
So they all three climbed up the stairs leading to Olga's gable-room,
and in the entrance-hall the servants collected and stared after them
with great, inquisitive eyes.
Before Olga's door Mrs. Hellinger was seized with a paroxysm of
despair.
"You knock, doctor," she sobbed, "I cannot."
The old man knocked.
All remained quiet.
He knocked again, and put his ear to the keyhole.
As before.
Then Mrs. Hellinger began to scream:
"Olga, my beloved, my dear child, do open--we are here--your uncle and
aunt and old uncle doctor are here. You may open without fear, my
love."
The physician pressed the latch; the door was locked. He looked through
the key-hole; it was stopped up.
"Have the locksmith fetched, Adalbert," he said.
"No," cried Mrs. Hellinger, suddenly casting all sorrow to the winds,
"that I shall not permit--that will on no account be done. The disgrace
would be too great: I could never survive it--such a disgrace--such a
disgrace!"
The doctor gave her a look of unmistakable loathing and contempt. She
took little notice of it.
"You are strong, Hellinger," she said, "bear up against the door;
perhaps you may succeed in breaking the lock."
Mr. Hellinger was a giant. He set one of his powerful shoulders against
the woodwork, which at the first pressure began to crack in its joints.
"But softly," his wife admonished, "the servants are standing in the
entrance-hall. Be off with you into the kitchen, you lazy beggars!" she
shouted scolding down the stairs.
Down below doors banged. A second push----one of the boards broke right
through the middle. Through the splintry chink a bright ray of daylight
broke through into the semi-dark corridor.
"Let me look through," said the doctor, who now, in anticipation of the
worst, was calm and collected.
Hellinger broke off a few splinters, so that through the aperture the
whole room could be overlooked.
Opposite the door, a few paces removed from the window, stood the bed.
The coverlet was dragged up, and formed a white hillock behind which a
strip of Olga's light brown hair shone forth. A small portion of the
forehead was also visible--white as the bed-clothes it gleamed. The
feet were uncovered; they seemed to have been firmly set against the
foot end of the bed and then to have relaxed.
By the pillow, on a chair, lay her clothes neatly folded. Her skirts,
her stockings, were laid one upon the other in perfect symmetry, and on
the carpet stood her slippers, with their heels turned towards the bed,
so as to be quite ready for slipping into on rising.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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