Nothing else existed around him. He did not see the
enormous multitude, he did not even hear the wild cries of the priests,
the incessant cries which shook this quivering crowd. His eyes alone
remained to him, his eyes burning with infinite tenderness, and they were
fixed upon the Virgin, never more to turn from her. They drank her in,
even unto death; they made a last effort of will to disappear, die out in
her. For an instant, however, his mouth half opened and his drawn visage
relaxed as an expression of celestial beatitude came over it. Then
nothing more stirred, his eyes remained wide open, still obstinately
fixed upon the white statue.
A few seconds elapsed. Marthe had felt a cold breath, chilling the roots
of her hair. "I say, madame, look!" she stammered.
Madame Sabathier, who felt anxious, pretended that she did not
understand. "What is it, my girl?"
"My brother! look! He no longer moves. He opened his mouth, and has not
stirred since." Then they both shuddered, feeling certain he was dead.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77