Thereupon the young man, standing erect beside the
writing-table, began to dictate the names in a low voice; and then, amid
the deep silence sounded a low and monotonous murmur.

The minutes slowly went by. The visitors were still waiting for
Constance. At last a little door of the death-chamber slowly opened, and
she entered that chamber noiselessly, without anybody knowing that she
was there. She looked like a spectre emerging out of the darkness into
the pale light of the tapers. She had not yet wept; her face was
livid, contracted, hardened by cold rage. Her little figure, instead of
bending, seemed to have grown taller beneath the injustice of destiny,
as if borne up by furious rebellion. Yet her loss did not surprise her.
She had immediately felt that she had expected it, although but a minute
before the death she had stubbornly refused to believe it possible. But
the thought of it had remained latent within her for long months, and
frightful evidence thereof now burst forth. She suddenly heard the
whispers of the unknown once more, and understood them; she knew
the meaning of those shivers which had chilled her, those vague,
terror-fraught regrets at having no other child! And that which had been
threatening her had come; irreparable destiny had willed it that her
only son, the salvation of the imperilled home, the prince of to-morrow,
who was to share his empire with her, should be swept away like a
withered leaf. It was utter downfall; she sank into an abyss. And she
remained tearless; fury dried her tears within her. Yet, good mother
that she had always been, she suffered all the torment of motherliness
exasperated, poisoned by the loss of her child.

She drew near to Charlotte and paused behind her, looking at the profile
of her dead son resting among the flowers. And still she did not weep.
She slowly gazed over the bed, filled her eyes with the dolorous scene,
then carried them again to the paper, as if to see what would be left
her of that adored son--those few pencil strokes--when the earth should
have taken him forever. Charlotte, divining that somebody was behind
her, started and raised her head. She did not speak; she had felt
frightened. But both women exchanged a glance. And what a heart pang
came to Constance, amid that display of death, in the presence of the
void, the nothingness that was hers, as she gazed on the other's face,
all love and health and beauty, suggesting some youthful star, whence