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i so the miracles of* antichrist
arms, of enormous size, were gaudily embroidered in
the middle, and it had silver fringes and heavy
tassels. This pall had never been spread over any
other than an Alagona. It seemed to lie there in
order that Donna Micaela might not for a moment
forget that her last support had fallen, and that now
she was alone and without protection among the
raging people.
Some one now entered and announced that the
old Assunta had come. What could old Assunta
want ? Oh, yes ! she was eulogist; it was customary
to have her speak of the dead.
Donna Micaela permitted Assunta to enter the
room. She came just as she was every day, as she
sat begging on the cathedral steps, the same patched
dress and the same faded head-cloth, and the same
cane.
Small, and with bent back, she limped over to the
coffin. She had a shriveled face and failing eyes.
Donna Micaela said to herself that it was
helplessness and impotency that had entered the room.
Old Assunta lifted her voice and began speaking
in the name of the wife.
" My husband is dead, and I am alone. He that
raised me to his rank is dead. How extraordinary,
is it not, that my home has lost its master? Why
are your shutters closed ? the passers-by ask.—I
answer : I cannot bear to see the light, because my
sorrow is great, my sorrow is threefold.—What, are
there so many of your family borne away by the
white ones?—No, no one of my family is dead,
but I have lost my husband, my husband, my
husband !"
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