I loved Sulpizia, but her cheerfulness without
smiling was the awful serenity of wintry sunlight. She faded day by day.
It was clear to us that the end was not far away.
"Two years after the marriage, Sulpizia was lying upon a couch in the room
behind us, where you have seen the veiled portrait which hung in my
brother's chamber. All the long windows and doors were open and we sat by
her side, talking gently in whispers. I knew that death was at hand, but
I rejoiced to think that much as he had suffered, there was one bitter
drop that had been spared him.
"Sulpizia's voice was scarcely audible, and the deadly pallor deepened
every moment upon her face. Camillo bent over her without speaking, and
bowed his head. I stood apart. In a little while she seemed to be
unconscious of our presence. Her eyes were open and her glance was toward
the window, but her few words showed her mind to be wandering. Still a few
moments, and her lips moved inaudibly, she lifted her hands to Camillo's
face and drew it toward her own with infinite tenderness. His listening
soul heard one word only--the glimmering phantom of sound--it was 'Luigi.'
"His head bowed more profoundly.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218