41

François, entering the room, quietly approached the bed.

- Anna! he whispered.

She turned her head with visible effort and looked at him.

- My dear...

He glanced at her briefly - a fever, a damp forehead, sunken eyes, a frantic pulse. Supporting Anna's head, François forced her to take a few sips of the bitter. After drinking, she collapsed helplessly on the pillows and seemed to doze off. And he sat next to her and held his wife's thin, pale hand in his. Suddenly Anna opened her eyes and whispered:

- Will you remember me? At least occasionally?

François broke into a cold sweat at these words.

- Come on, Anna, it's just a fever. Everything will be all right, you'll see, dear.

Dr. Weklera entered with quick steps, followed by the midwife. After saying hello, he examined the patient and, calling François aside, shook his head ruefully.

- Fever, your grace. She is so weak that even bloodletting is dangerous. Let's trust in the help of the Lord. I'll be here until the morning.

François re
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