others he had
already had at home.

It might have been about midnight when Kate, who was sleeping
softly, rocked to sleep by the constant roar of the sea, was startled
by a knocking at the door between their two rooms, and by a cry
of "Mother, oh mother!" Was not that a child moaning? She sat up
drowsily--then she recognised his voice.

"Wolfgang, yes, what's the matter?" She threw on her morning-gown in
a fright, pushed her feet into her velvet shoes, opened the door--there
he stood outside in his shirt and with bare feet, trembling and
stammering: "I feel--so bad." He looked at her imploringly with eyes
full of terror, and fell down before she had time to catch hold of
him.

Kate almost pulled the bell down in her terror. The porter and
chambermaid came running. "Telegraph 'Come' to my husband--to my
husband. Quickly, at once."

When the scared proprietor of the hotel also appeared, they
laid the sick lad on his untidy bed again; the porter rushed to the
telegraph station and for the doctor, the chambermaid sobbed. The
landlord himself hurried down into his cellar to fetch some of the
oldest brandy and the best champagne. They were all so extremely sorry
for the young gentleman; he seemed to be lying in a deep swoon.

Kate did not weep like the good-natured person the chambermaid,
whose tears ran down her cheeks the whole time. She had too much to
think of, she had to do her duty until the last. Until the last--now
she knew it. It was not necessary for the doctor to shake his head nor
to whisper mysteriously to the proprietor of the hotel--she knew it.
Restoratives were brought from the chemist's; the sick lad's head was
lowered, his feet raised, they gave him camphor injections--the heart
would not be whipped on any more.

Kate did not leave him; she stood close to his bed. The golden,
invincible, eternal light was just rising gloriously out of the waves
when he stammered something once more. She bent over him as closely as
she had once done over the sleeping boy, when she had longed to give
him breath of her breath, to mould him anew for herself, to give him
life of her life. She had not that wish any longer. She let him go now.
And if she bent over him so closely now, hung on his lips so
affectionately, it was only to hear his last wish.

"Mo-ther?" There was such a question in his voice. He said nothing
further. He only opened his eyes once more, looked round searchingly,
sighed and then expired.