A darker night was never known. The wind blew from the Rhine, the snow
blew about like dust; here and there the lighted windows showed where
people were watching the sick.
My head was uncovered, yet I did not feel the cold. I cried within
myself:
"The last day had come! That day of which the Lord has said: 'Afore
the harvest, when the bud is perfect, and the sour grape is ripening in
the flower, he shall both cut off the sprigs with pruning-hooks, and
take away and cut down the branches."
Full of these fearful thoughts, I went across the large market-place,
where the wind was tossing the old elms, full of frost.
As the clock struck one, I pushed open Doctor Steinbrenner's door; its
large pulley rattled in the vestibule. As I was groping about, trying
to find the railing, the servant appeared with a light at the top of
the stairs.
"Who is there?" she asked, holding the lantern before her.
"Ah!" I replied, "tell the doctor to come immediately; we have a child
sick, very sick."