The rubbing, the movements, the artificial respiration had to be kept up for another full hour.

But death held his prey fast, and would not let them force it out of his clutches.
Two days later, on a gray rainy day, they buried him.

Schrotter came over from Berlin for the funeral.

He looked quite broken down, and grief had aged his leonine features to an appalling extent.

Malvine and Willy were lying ill in bed, so that Paul and Schrotter followed their friend alone to his last resting-place.