But apparently it was not the will of God that the seven or
eight disciples of Æsculapius should interfere with the orders
he had given, so Celinina grew worse and worse, struggling with
indescribable anguish, like a bruised butterfly quivering with broken
wings on the ground. Her parents bent over her with wild anxiety,
as though they expected to detain her in this world by the power of
their will, as though they expected to arrest the rapid course of
human disorganization, and breathe their own life into the little
martyr, who was exhaling hers in a sigh.
From the street came the thumping of drums and the jingling of
tambourines. Celinina opened her eyes; and with an appealing look
and a few solemn words, which seemed already the language of another
world, she asked her father for that which he had failed to bring
her. The father and mother, in their distress, thought of deceiving
her; and with the hope of casting a ray of happiness through the
misery of this supreme moment they handed her the turkeys, saying,
"Look, my darling, here are the little mule and the little ox."
But Celinina, even at the point of death, was conscious enough to
know that turkeys can never be anything but turkeys; and she pushed
them away gently. From that time on she lay still with her great eyes
fixed on her parents, and her little hand on her head to show them
where the terrible pain was. That rhythmical sound which is like the
last vibration of life gradually grew fainter and fainter, until it
was hushed entirely, like the machinery of a clock that has stopped,
and the dainty little girl was only an exquisite scrap of matter,
inert, cold, and as white and transparent as the sublimated wax that
burns on the altars.
Now you understand the father's remorse. To bring his little Celinina
back to life he would have scoured the face of the earth and
collected all the oxen and all the mules upon it. The thought of not
having satisfied this innocent desire was the sharpest and coldest
blade that pierced his heart. Vainly did he appeal to his reason; of
what account was his reason? He was quite as much of a child as the
little one asleep in the coffin, for he gave greater importance to a
toy just then than to anything else on earth or in heaven.