while, she got up, opened the door, went out into the hall
without making the slightest noise, came back, went out again, came back
again, and got in bed, left the door open, sat upright and gazed at the
closed door across the hall behind which she knew Daniel and Eleanore
were. Her hair hung down in two long braids on either side of her head.
Her pale face in this frame of black hair above it and on both sides of
it looked like a wax figure in an old black frame.

Of the pictures that were being formed in her mind and soul, there was
not a single twitching of the muscles to indicate what they looked like.

For her the entire world lay behind that door. It seemed to her that she
could no longer endure the knowledge she had of what was taking place.
In her maddened imagination she saw women stealing through the halls of
the house; in every corner there was a woman, and with every woman there
was a man; they embraced each other, and sank their teeth into each
other's flesh. It was all as criminal as it was irrational; it was a
shame and an abomination to behold. Everywhere she looked she saw
reprehensible nudeness; all clothes seemed to be made of glass; she
could look neither at a man nor at a woman without turning pale. She had
only one refuge: the cradle of her child. She would rush to it and pray.
But as soon as her prayer was ended she again felt stifled in the
poisoned air about her, while the desire to acquit herself of the crime
of which she felt guilty, unable though she was to define the crime or
determine her part in it, robbed her of her sleep. She felt that a great
jagged stone was suspended over her head, that it was becoming less and
less firmly attached every day, and that its fall if not imminent was
certain.

Hour after hour passed by; Daniel finally appeared in the vestibule. He
was not a little terrified when he saw the burning lamp and Gertrude
sitting up in bed.

He went into the bedroom, closed the door, walked up to the cradle,
looked at the child, and then went over to Gertrude. She cast a glance
of infinite inquiry at him. It was a look that seemed to implore him for
a decision, a judgment. At the same time she put out her hands as if to
ward off any approach on his part. When she saw that he was astonished,
she softened the expression on her face, and said: "Give me your hand."

She took his right hand, stroked it, and whispered: "Poor hand, poor
hand."

Daniel bit his lips: "Oh woman, wh