It was now half past one and they lay down to sleep. Too upset by everything that had happened during the day to fall asleep, Gurdweill lay on his back, staring into the night. One window was open, the evening wind having died down, and a vague chill, compounded of both winter and summer at once, seeped soundlessly into the room, touching Gurdweill’s face so lightly that he did not even feel it. He was exhausted, his limbs were crushed with weariness, and his head felt heavy, drowsy, and feverish, as full of fragments of thoughts as a pot full of peas. Ah, if only he could fall asleep! The ridiculous notion came to him, that if only he could fall asleep here at home, Martin would fall asleep there, in the hospital, and be cured … And now he himself was hindering the cure … He closed his eyes and lay absolutely still, willing himself to fall asleep. And suddenly something like a cold wind blew through his skull, just under the forehead, from right to left — an acute nervous pain that caused him to open his eyes again. The doctor had ordered hospitalisation and presumably he knew best … And the hospital had made a good impression … The stout nurse had smiled at Martin kindly, a sign that she — no, it wasn’t a sign of anything at all. It didn’t mean a thing! Well, he would see in the morning. And if he didn’t like what he saw, there was nothing to prevent him from taking the child straight home! No one to look after him at home? And he, Gurdweill, where was he?! If a doctor’s supervision was necessary, then let the doctor come twice a day! He would find the money! Yes, tomorrow it would be decided, one way or the other, according to the situation. But that newspaper under the bench — what a nuisance it had made of itself! It didn’t give him a moment’s peace! What was to stop him carrying the blanket without making it into a parcel? There was no need for the newspaper at all. But what had he done with it in the end? He had brought it home, he remembered, and put it down on the couch, but afterwards — had he removed it or not? Perhaps he had spread out his sheet without removing the newspaper first? Gurdweill began moving his feet cautiously about at the foot of the couch, and listening for the rustle of paper, but he couldn’t hear a thing. ‘Stop this nonsense!’ he said to himself. ‘It makes no difference anyway!’