When I entered I was struck with the order and the air of profound peace
that pervaded the room. My father was sitting motionless at the head of
the bed--he was in the shadow, the open curtains were draped with great
precision, and on the pillow, just in its middle, was the head of my
sleeping grandmother; her whole position had about it something very
regular--something that suggested eternal rest.

My mother and sister were seated beside a chiffonier near the door, from
which place they had kept watch over my grandmother during her illness.
As soon as I entered they signalled to me with their hands as if to say:
"Softly, softly, make no noise; she is asleep." The shade of their lamp
threw a vivid light upon the material they were busied with, a number
of little silk squares, brown, yellow, gray, etc., that I recognized as
pieces of their old dresses and hat ribbons.

At first I thought that they were working upon things which it is
customary to prepare for people about to die; but when I, in a very low
voice and with some uneasiness, questioned them about it, they explained
that they were making sachets which were to be sold for charity.

I said that I wished to bid grandmother good night before retiring, and
they allowed me to go towards the bed; but before I reached the middle
of the room they, after glancing quickly at each other, changed their
minds.

"No, no," they said in a very low voice, "come back, you might disturb
her."

But before they spoke I came to a halt of myself, I was overwhelmed with