Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XV. John
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smiling face of the boy to the face of the woman
asleep on Rosalie’s bed. The two faces were the
same.
She washed him and dressed him for the last
time. Not even Rosalie was allowed to help her
to lay him in his coffin. She sent her out twice
in search of the right kind of pillow, she did not
think his head looked comfortable.
She implored me to postpone screwing on the
lid till the next day. I told her she knew the
bitterness of Life, she knew little of the bitterness
of Death, I was a doctor, I knew of both. I told
her death had two faces, one beautiful and serene,
another forbidding and terrible. The boy had
parted from life with a smile on his lips, death
would not leave it there for long. It was
necessary to close the coffin to-night. She bent her
head and said nothing. As I lifted the lid she
sobbed and said she could not part with him and
leave him all alone in the foreign cemetery.
“Why part with him,” said I, “why not take
him with you, he weighs so little, why don’t you
take him to England in your yacht and bury him
near your beautiful parish church in Kent?”
She smiled through her tears, the same smile
as the boy’s smile. She sprang to her feet.
“Can I? May I?” she called out almost
with joy.
“It can be done, it shall be done if you let me
screw on the lid now, there is no time to lose or
he will be taken to the cemetery in Passy
to-morrow morning.”
As I lifted up the lid she laid a little bunch of
violets close to his cheek.
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