Everything which I had gone through and endured was, probably, written
on my face when I returned home. My mother suddenly rose upright as soon
as I entered her room, and gazed at me with such insistent inquiry that,
after having unsuccessfully attempted to explain myself, I ended by
silently handing her the ring. She turned frightfully pale, her eyes
opened unusually wide and turned dim like _his_.--She uttered a faint
cry, seized the ring, reeled, fell upon my breast, and fairly swooned
there, with her head thrown back and devouring me with those wide, mad
eyes. I encircled her waist with both arms, and standing still on one
spot, never stirring, I slowly narrated everything, without the
slightest reservation, to her, in a quiet voice: my dream and the
meeting, and everything, everything.... She heard me out to the end,
only her breast heaved more and more strongly, and her eyes suddenly
grew more animated and drooped. Then she put the ring on her fourth
finger, and, retreating a little, began to get out a mantilla and a hat.
I asked where she was going. She raised a surprised glance to me and
tried to answer, but her voice failed her. She shuddered several times,
rubbed her hands as though endeavouring to warm herself, and at last she
said: "Let us go at once thither."
"Whither, mother dear?"
"Where he is lying.... I want to see ... I want to know ... I shall
identify...."
I tried to persuade her not to go; but she was almost in hysterics. I
understood that it was impossible to oppose her desire, and we set out.