"The Lord wishes me to die here," he said. "But still he permits me, at
least, to have the habit on my bed, before I die." Don Clemente bent
over him, and kissed his forehead.
Meanwhile the Selvas were waiting a little way off. Benedetto called
them to him, and told them that he would receive Signora Dessalle in
half an hour, but he begged her not to come alone. She might come with
them. Mayda went out with the Selvas. The sister was dozing. Then
Benedetto asked Don Clemente to go to the Pontiff, afterwards, and to
tell him that the end of the vision had not been fulfilled, that thus
all that had seemed miraculous in his life had vanished and that before
his death he had felt the sweetness of the Pope's blessing.
"And tell him," he added, "that I hope to speak in his heart again."
His breathing was less laboured, but his voice was growing weaker, and
his strength was going with the fever. Don Clemente took his wrist and
held it for some time. Then he rose.
"Are you going for the habit?" Benedetto murmured, with a sweet smile.
Pages:
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593