The thoroughness of the scientist had absorbed him.
At last he turned to me.
"Have you understood?"
"Yes," said I.
"What's the matter, then?" he asked.
"Nothing," I replied. "Only I can't look at that too well."
"Ach, so." He put on his glasses.
Then he put back the photographs into their covers and looked at me searchingly. "Don't you indulge any unhelpful ideas."
"I don't," said I.
"But it's a god-damned miserable business.
There are millions of healthy human beings.
Then why not this one?"
Jaffe' was silent awhile.
"Nobody has an answer to that," said he then.
"Yes," I replied, suddenly embittered and numb with anger: "no one can answer that.
Of course not.
Nobody has an answer to misery and death.
No, damn it; and what's more one can't do anything against it."
Jaffe looked at me a long time.
"Forgive me," said I. "But there's nothing I can do.
That's what is so damnable."
He continued to look at me.
"Have you time to spare?" he asked.
"Yes," said I. "Enough."
He stood up.
"I must make my evening round now.
I'd like you to come with me.
Nurse will give you a white overall.
Then you'll pass with the patients for my assistant."
I did not know what he intended, but I took the overall which the nurse was offering to me.
We went down the long corridor.
Through the wide windows came the rosy glow of evening—a soft, subdued, quite unreal, hovering light.
Some windows stood open, and the scent of lime flowers wafted in.
Jaffe opened a door.
A sticky, foul smell came out to meet us.
A woman with wonderful hair, the colour of old gold, in which the light shimmered in bright reflections, lifted her hand feebly.
Her forehead was aristocratic and narrow at the temples, but below the eyes a bandage began. It extended right to the mouth.
Jaffe loosed it carefully.
I saw that the woman had no nose—in its place an encrusted, slimy, red wound with two holes in it.
Jaffe replaced the bandage.
"Good," said he in a friendly voice and turned to go.
He closed the door behind him.
I stood a moment outside and looked into the soft evening light.
"Come on," said Jaffe and walked ahead of me into the next room.
"The hot gurgling and coughing of delirium greeted us.
It was a chap with a leaden-coloured face in which stood bright red patches.
His mouth was open, his eyes bulging and his hands travelled restlessly hither and thither over the counterpane.
He was quite unconscious. The temperature chart shewed a steady hundred and four degrees.
A nurse was sitting by the bed reading.
She put the book aside and stood up as Jaffe entered.