The old woman dried her eyes. Gurdweill was very touched by her story. He looked at her compassionately.

‘And do you think that she stayed there?’ the old woman continued bitterly. ‘Three days! That’s all! They said: “There’s no room here! This is only a temporary station, for a few days, and from here they’re sent there. It can take a few weeks, even months, you can never tell in advance with this disease, sometimes two months and sometimes six too, and there’s no room here.” I objected, I cried, I begged, I even spoke to the professor, to Wagner-Jauregg himself. And he said: “We’ll see. If it’s possible, we’re happy for her to stay. But if the directors say there’s no room, presumably they know what they’re talking about, and my intervention won’t help. Over there, by the way, the conditions are better than they are here. Our building is old, and there everything is new and up to date and adapted to the needs of the patients. It’s just the name that’s frightening. Pure prejudice!” And when I came to visit her the next morning, I was told that she had already been transferred to Steinhof. And she’s been there ever since.’

Gurdweill was silent. After a moment he asked, ‘And how is she now? Is she any better?’

‘How should I know? Who knows! The doctor told me last week that she’s much better, and that if she continues to make progress she’ll be able to come home in two months’ time. I myself can’t tell. At first she refused to eat. She wanted to die of hunger, she said. They had to feed her artificially. She was indifferent to everything, and just imagine, she didn’t even want to see me when I came to visit her. She didn’t even ask about the baby, she just sat there in silence. Now she talks a little and eats whatever I bring her. Once, early on, I took the baby with me. I thought she would be glad to see him — but she didn’t take any notice of him at all. And I never took him again. My son-in-law goes once a week; he’s too busy to go more often. A few days ago she asked me to bring her oranges. Now she waits for me; she looks out of the window on the days when she thinks I’m coming — the nurse told me so. A few days ago she even asked the nurse about the baby. But she always wants to come home. Saying goodbye is heart-breaking. She won’t let me go. She begs me to take her home with me; she runs after me crying. When I come home from there I’m ill for two days. I can’t bear to see my baby suffering.’