He put the candle out, and set it away.

"Give me your hand, Daniel."

He felt for her hand; he took hold of it. It was ice cold; he laid it on
his breast.

"May I stay with you, Daniel? Will you tolerate me in your home?"

"Tolerate? Gertrude, tolerate?" he asked, in a lifeless, toneless voice.
"You are my wife, in the presence of God my wife," he added, in deadened
memory of the words of another.

"I will become your mother made young again, as you wish."

"Yes, Gertrude, but how?"

"I will help you, you and Eleanore. The hearts of you two shall not
bleed to death because of me. Let me stay; that is all I ask."

"That is more easily said than done, Gertrude." He pressed close up to
her, took her in his arms, and sobbed with unexpected violence.

"It is hard; yes, it is hard. But your heart must not be allowed to
bleed on my account."

His head lay on her breast; he was seized with convulsions of grief that
would not let him go until break of day.

Then all of a sudden the words came like a scream from Gertrude's lips:
"I too am a creature."

He embraced her with warmth; and she murmured: "It is hard, Daniel, but
be of good cheer, be of good cheer."

XV

Pflaum, the apothecary, had begun to feel cramped in his house near the
Church of the Holy Ghost. He had looked at several houses in the last
week or two, and had finally decided on the Schimmelweis property, which
was now for sale. The apothecary shop was to remain for the time being
at its present location, and Jason Philip was likewise to keep his store
and his residence. Herr Pflaum, being the landlord, intended to occupy
the first and second floors; he had a large family.

One beautiful August afternoon, the two men--the apothecary and the
bookseller--left the office of Judge Ruebsam, where they had gone to sign
the papers transferring the mortgage on the Schimmelweis property. A
cloudless sky, already tinted with the blue of the descending sun, shone
over the city.

Herr Pflaum looked the picture of happiness: his troubles seemed all to
be behind him; he was manifestly facing the future without fear and
without care. Jason Philip Schimmelweis, on the contrary, was plainly
worried. He looked like a man who was on the down grade. There was a
great grease spot on his coat. This spot told the story of domestic
troubles; it revealed the fact that Jason Philip had a wife who had been
ill in bed for months, and