my own mother! I demand respect
for her, the same respect that is shown myself! Must I compel men to
render her fitting honor? Here, bring torches. Prepare the catafalque in
St. Martin's church, and place it before the altar! Put candles around
it, as many as can be found! It is still early! Lieutenant! I am glad you
are there! Rouse the cathedral priests and go to the bishop. I command a
solemn requiem for my mother! Everything is to be arranged precisely as
it was at the funeral of the Duchess of Aerschot! Let trumpets give the
signal for assembling. Order the bells to be rung! In an hour all must be
ready at St. Martin's cathedral! Bring torches here, I say! Have I the
right to command--yes or no? A large oak coffin was standing at the
joiner's close by. Bring it here, here; I need a better death-couch for
my mother. You poor, dear woman, how you loved flowers, and no one has
brought you even one! Captain Ortis, I have issued my commands!
Everything must be done, when I return;--Lieutenant, you have your
orders!"

He rushed from the death-chamber to the sitting-room in his own house,
and hastily tore stalks and blossoms from the plants. The maid-servants
watched him timidly, and he harshly ordered them to collect what he had
gathered and take them to the house of death.

His orders were obeyed, and when he next appeared at Zorrillo's quarters,
the soldiers, who had assembled there in throngs, parted to make way for
him.

He beckoned to them, and while he went from one to another, saying: "The
sibyl was my mother--Zorrillo has murdered my mother," the coffin was
borne into the house.

In the vestibule, he leaned his head against the wall, moaning and
sighing, until Florette was laid in her last bed, and a soldier put his
hand on his shoulder. Then Ulrich strewed flowers over the corpse, and
the joiner came to nail up the coffin. The blows of the hammer actually
hurt him, it seemed as if each one fell upon his own heart.

The funeral procession passed through the ranks of soldiers, who filled
the street. Several officers came to meet it, and Captain Ortis,
approaching close to the Eletto, said: "The bishop refuses the catafalque
and the solemn requiem you requested. Your mother died in sin, without
the sacrament. He will grant as many masses for the repose of her soul as
you desire, but such high honors. . . ."

"He refuses them to us?"

"Not to us, to the sibyl."

"She was my mother, your Eletto's mother. T