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The door to Maria's bedchamber swung open, Dr. Reiter reappeared, and gestured the Captain inside.
"Well?" the man asked impatiently.
"I am sorry to say that she is worse," the physician replied softly. "I expect the crisis to come tonight. As a result, I will stay close, but I warn you, that there is not much more that I can do, which I have not already done." The Captain grew as white as a sheet. Trying to hide his agony, feeling unequal to looking at Maria at that moment, he walked instead to the window.
A pitiful sight met his eyes. His seven children were meandering aimlessly, spiritlessly, in the garden below.
"When Fräulein Maria wanted to feel better, she used to sing that song," Marta's mournful voice floated up to him after a few moments. "Let's try it?"
The others nodded.
"Green drops on roses and whiskers on…on…," the children barely got a few meters into the song before their voices broke.
After a dreadful pause, Kurt, with a sudden flash of wisdom, said,
"You know…I think it would be better if we did the other thing Fräulein Maria taught us to do. It may help her heaps more than singing."
As their father wondered what his son meant and then watched in awe, all the little Von Trapps reached into their pockets. Pulling out the rosary beads which Fräulein Maria had made and had had blessed specially for each of them, they bent their sweet heads and began to pray earnestly.
"Our Father, who art in heaven…"
….
An hour later, the Captain found himself kneeling on the floor, trembling, watching the priest administer the last rites to Maria.
Every prayer, every gesture brought five-year-old memories flooding back. The pain tearing at his heart was at once the same, and different. With his wife, he had known exactly what he was losing. After twelve years of marriage, nothing between them remained unsaid. With Maria's passing, however, everything important would remain unspoken. She would never know how much she had been loved!
…..
The afternoon wore on, and dusk came. As the clock chimed out each hour, Georg Von Trapp steeled himself for the possibility that it may be Maria's last.
At nine in the evening, Liesl came into the room.
"The little ones are in bed," she said softly. "I came to sit with Fräulein Maria, Father."
"No. You go to bed too," the Captain replied, rather brusquely.
"I would much rather help," Liesl said as she started to seat herself in a bedside chair.
The Captain suddenly turned upon his daughter.
"I said go to bed!" he barked. "How dare you defy me?"
Shock and then deep pain flooded his daughter's eyes. She had grown unaccustomed to her father's harsh words and hard tones. Without a word, she hung her head and began to walk towards the door.
The Captain, exhausted as he was, caught a glimpse of her face and instantaneously repented.
"Liesl," he called to her softly.
The young girl turned back toward him. He was ashamed to see that there were tears shining under her lashes. Wordlessly, he held out his arms, and after a moment, Liesl slowly walked into his embrace.
"I know you are a young lady now," he whispered into her ear as he held her close. "But there are some things that are awful for even older adults to see. I was twenty-one the first time I saw someone die, and that scene is forever scorched into my memory – the last gasps, the contortions…I don't want your sixteen-year-old eyes to see that. If…if it should happen, I want you to remember only what Fräulein Maria looked like when she was healthy and happy. Please obey me and go to your room, Liesl."
Understanding dawning in her eyes, the girl nodded. After clinging to him for some moments, she walked to the bed, placed a kiss on her governess's flushed cheek, and then withdrew.
When Liesl had gone, the pale-faced Captain seated himself resolutely on the edge of Maria's bed, clasped her hand in his own, and bent over her, watching her ragged, uneven breathing. At the very least, she would not die alone.
….
As the horrid night went on, the girl kept drawing breaths. At four o'clock in the morning, the Captain blinked his bleary eyes. Was his vision failing? His formerly clear view of Maria's face seemed to be covered with an odd sort of fog.
It was then that he realized that the thick droplets he saw were not in his eyes, but on Maria's face. Her face was drenched with sweat.
"Doctor!" he gasped out in a hoarse voice.
Dr. Reiter flew to the bed. For what seemed like an eternity, he took Maria's temperature, and listened to her heart. Finally he straightened up and looked at the Captain.
"She will live!" he said in a firm, joyful voice.