'I answered--"I fancy it must be for the Viaticum."
'And in fact, a little further on we saw the priest just entering a door
while a clerk held the canopy over him, and two others stood upon the
threshold, straight as candelabra, holding up lighted lanterns. A
single window of the house was lighted up, the one behind which the
dying Christian was awaiting Extreme Unction. Faint shadows flitted
across the brightness of that pale yellow square on which was outlined
the whole mysterious drama of Death.
'The footman bent down from the box and asked in a low voice--"Who is
it?"
'The person addressed answered in dialect and mentioned a woman's name.
'I would have liked to muffle the sound of the carriage wheels upon the
stones, to have made our passage a silent one past the spot where a soul
was about to take flight. Francesca, I am sure, shared my feeling.
'The carriage turned into the road to Schifanoja and the horses set off
at a brisk trot. The moon, ringed by a halo, shone like an opal in the
milk-white sky. A train of cloud rose out of the sea and stretched away
by degrees in spiral form, like a trail of smoke. The somewhat stormy
sea drowned all other sounds with its roar. Never, I think, did a
heavier sadness weigh upon two spirits.
'I felt something wet upon my cold cheek, and turning to Francesca to
see if she noticed that I was crying, I met her eyes--they were full of
tears.
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