e mistress is in to-day. She has been after
me."

Kate had stood beside the girl until the bedroom was finished, she
had positively rushed her. Now she was alone, quite alone with
him up there, now she could see what was the matter with him.

Would he still be drunk? As she stood outside his door she held her
breath; putting her ear to the door she listened. There was nothing to
be heard inside, not even his breathing. After casting a glance around
her she opened the door like a thief, crept inside and locked it again
behind her. She approached the bed cautiously and softly; but she
started back so hastily that the high-backed chair she knocked against
fell over with a loud noise. What was that--there? What was it?

A disgusting smell, which filled the closed room, made her feel
sick. Staggering to the window she tore it open, thrust back the
shutters--then she saw. There he lay like an animal--he, who had always
been accustomed to so much attention, he who as a child had stretched
out his little hands if only a crumb had stuck to them: "Make them
clean!" and had cried. There he lay now as if he did not feel anything,
as if he did not care anything whatever about what was going on around
him, as if the bed on which he lay were fresh and clean; his eyes, with
their jet-black lashes that fell like shadows on his pale cheeks, were
firmly closed, and he slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion.

She did not know what she was doing. She raised her hand to strike
him in the face, to throw a word at him--a violent word expressive of
disgust and loathing; she felt how the saliva collected in her mouth,
how she longed to spit. It was too horrible, too filthy, too terrible!

A stream of light forced its way in through the open window, of
light and sun; a blackbird was singing, full and clear. Outside was the
sun, outside was beauty, but here, here? She would have liked to cover
up her face and whimper, to run away and conceal herself. But
who should do what was necessary? Who should make everything tidy and
clean? The chair she had knocked down, the clothes she had drawn off
him so hastily, the disgusting smell--alas, all reminded her only too
distinctly of a wild night. It must not remain like that. And even if
she did not love him any longer--no, no, there was no voice in her
heart now that spoke of love--her pride bade her not to humble herself
before the servants. Let her get it away quickly, quickly, let nobody
else find out