[If Mephisto heard her weep, he might have snuck a hand under the covers and sought out her hand. That's what a good man might do, at least. As he is a thoughtless demon, he certainly doesn't hear her cry, and so he only rests his hand atop the blanket mound that might be Anne.]

The Plague, perhaps? This awful sickness spread onto us? I can cough on him. [He lets himself laugh, hardly loud enough to be heard.] And if not that, how about the devil himself?

[He's not the devil, not even close. But he can pretend.]