died.

She sways. My hand goes out to her. I take her, support, and enfold
her. Fainting, she clings to me, and for one moment I carry--gently,
heavily--all the young woman's weight. The neck of her dress is
undone, and falls like foliage from her throat, and I just saw the real
curve of her bosom, nakedly and distractedly throbbing.

Her body is agitated. She hides her face in her hands and then turns
it to mine. It chanced that our faces met, and my lips gathered the
wonderful savor of her tears!

* * * * * *

The room fills with lamentation; there is a continuous sound of deep
sighing. It is overrun by neighbors become friends, to whom no one
pays attention.

And now, in this sacred homelet, where death still bleeds, I cannot
prevent a heavy heart-beat in me towards the girl who is prostrated
like the rest, but who reigns there, in spite of me--of herself--of
everything. I feel myself agitated by an obscure and huge rapture--the
birth of my flesh and my vitals among these shadows. Beside this poor
creature who was so blended with me, and who is falling, falling,
through a hell of eternity, I am uplifted by a sort of hope.

I want to fix my attention on the fixity of the bed. I put my hand
over my eyes to shut out all thought save of the dead woman,
defenseless already, reclining on that earth into which she will sink.
But my looks, impelled by superhuman curiosity, escape between my