ere's the little
Princess, she's much afflicted too, and, no wonder, she was so fond of
our Benedetta."

Pierre himself had just noticed Celia coming in. She also had attired
herself in full mourning for this abominable visit of farewell. Behind
her was a maid, who carried on either arm a huge sheaf of white roses.

"The dear girl!" murmured Victorine, "she wanted her wedding with her
Attilio to take place on the same day as that of the poor lovers who lie
there. And they, alas! have forestalled her, their wedding's over; there
they sleep in their bridal bed."

Celia had at once crossed herself and knelt down beside the bed, but it
was evident that she was not praying. She was indeed looking at the
lovers with desolate stupefaction at finding them so white and cold with
a beauty as of marble. What! had a few hours sufficed, had life departed,
would those lips never more exchange a kiss! She could again see them at
the ball of that other night, so resplendent and triumphant with their
living love. And a feeling of furious protest rose from her young heart,
so open to life, so eager for joy and sunlight, so angry with the hateful
idiocy of death. And her anger and affright and grief, as she thus found
herself face to face with the annihilation which chills every passion,
could be read on her ingenuous, candid, lily-like face. She herself stood
on the threshold of a life of passion of which she yet knew nothing, and
behold! on that very threshold she encountered the corpses of those
dearly loved ones, the loss of whom racked her soul with grief.

She gently closed her eyes and tried to pray, whilst big tears fell from
under her lowered eyelids. Some time went by amidst the quivering
silence, which only the murmur of the mass near by disturbed. At last she
rose and took the sheaves of flowers from her maid; and standing on the
platform she hesitated for a moment, then placed the roses to the right
and left of the cushion on which the lovers' heads were resting, as if
she wished to crown them with those blossoms, perfume their young brows
with that sweet and powerful aroma. Then, though her hands remained empty
she did not retire, but remained there leaning over the dead ones,
trembling and seeking what she might yet say to them, what she might
leave them of herself for ever more. An inspiration came to her, and she
stooped forward, and with her whole, deep, loving soul set a long, long
kiss on the brow of either spouse.