The doctor shifted his feet uneasily on the bare floor.
'I don't think you know what it means, Doctor, to lose them all, all three of them, slowly, separately, one by one. I keep seeing them. I can see Gustav's face now as clearly as if he were lying here beside me in the bed. Gustav was a lovely boy, Doctor. But he was always ill. It is terrible when they are always ill and there is nothing you can do to help them.'
'I know.'
The woman opened her eyes, stared up at the doctor for a few seconds, then closed them again.
'My little girl was called Ida. She died a few days before Christmas. That is only four months ago. I just wish you could have seen Ida, Doctor.'
'You have a new one now.'
'But Ida was so beautiful.'
'Yes,' the doctor said. 'I know.'
'How can you know?' she cried.
'I am sure that she was a lovely child. But this new one is also like that.' The doctor turned away from the bed and walked over to the window and stood there looking out. It was a wet grey April afternoon, and across the street he could see the red roofs of the houses and the huge raindrops splashing on the tiles.
'Ida was two years old, Doctor... and she was so beautiful I was never able to take my eyes off her from the time I dressed her in the morning until she was safe in bed again at night. I used to live in holy terror of something happening to that child. Gustav had gone and my little Otto had also gone and she was all I had left. Sometimes I used to get up in the night and creep over to the cradle and put my ear close to her mouth just to make sure that she was breathing.'
'Try to rest,' the doctor said, going back to the bed. 'Please try to rest.' The woman's face was white and bloodless, and there was a slight bluish-grey tinge around the nostrils and the mouth. A few strands of damp hair hung down over her forehead, sticking to the skin.
'When she died... I was already pregnant again when that happened, Doctor. This new one was a good four months on its way when Ida died. "I don't want it!" I shouted after the funeral. "I won't have it! I have buried enough children!" And my husband... he was strolling among the guests with a big glass of beer in his hand... he turned around quickly and said, "I have news for you, Klara, I have good news." Can you imagine that, Doctor? We have just buried our third child and he stands there with a glass of beer in his hand and tells me that he has good news. "Today I have been posted to Braunau," he says, "so you can start packing at once. This will be a new start for you, Klara," he says. "It will be a new place and you can have a new doctor..." '
'Please don't talk any more.'
'You are the new doctor, aren't you, Doctor?'
'That's right.'
'And here we are in Braunau.'
'Yes.'
'I am frightened, Doctor.'
'Try not to be frightened.'
'What chance can the fourth one have now?'
'You must stop thinking like that.'
'I can't help it. I am certain there is something inherited that causes my children to die in this way. There must be.'
'That is nonsense.'
'Do you know what my husband said to me when Otto was born, Doctor? He came into the room and he looked into the cradle where Otto was lying and he said, "Why do all my children have to be so small and weak?" '
'I am sure he didn't say that.'
'He put his head right into Otto's cradle as though he were examining a tiny insect and he said, "All I am saying is why can't they be better specimens? That's all I am saying." And three days after that, Otto was dead. We baptised him quickly on the third day and he died the same evening. And then Gustav died. And then Ida died. All of them died, Doctor... and suddenly the whole house was empty....'
'Don't think about it now.'
'Is this one so very small?'
'He is a normal child.'