Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VIII. Naples
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dust destroyed by time and man. This little boy
alone has remained where he stood with the
quiver of arrows in his hand, ready to raise his
bow. He is indestructible because he is
immortal. The ancients called him Eros, he is the
god of Love.”
As I spoke the blasphemous word the bell from
the chapel called the nuns to their evening prayer.
She crossed herself and hurried out of the garden.
A moment later another nun came rushing
to take me to the Abbess, she had fainted in the
chapel, they had just carried her to her cell.
The Abbess looked at me with her terrible eyes.
She raised her hand and pointed to the Crucifix
on the wall, they brought her the Last
Sacraments. She never rallied, she never spoke, the
action of the heart grew weaker and weaker, she
was sinking rapidly. She lay there the whole
day, the Crucifix on her breast, her rosary in her
hands, her eyes closed, her body slowly growing
cold. Once or twice I thought I heard a faint
beating of the heart, soon I heard nothing. I
looked at the rigid, cruel face of the old Abbess
which even death had not been able to soften.
It was almost a relief to me that her eyes were
closed for ever, there was something in those
eyes that had frightened me. I looked at the
young nun by my side.
“I cannot stay here any longer,” I said, “I
have not slept since I came here, my head is
swimming, I am not myself, I do not know what
I am doing, I am afraid of myself, I am afraid
of you, I am afraid of . . .”
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