"Of course, poor things!" And the people entered, slowly, respectfully, some gathering around the Professor and asking, with tears in their eyes: "Is it true, _Signor Professore_?
Is it true he is dying?
Tell us!" And behind them others pressed, anxiously awaiting the answer.

The answer was only: "Alas! What can I say to you ?" But the sad, manly face said more than the words and the crowd moved away mournfully, along the green slopes, which had taken on a livid hue under the black sky streaked with white and formed a mystic symbol of death, of the dark passage from terrestrial shadows to the upper regions of infinite brightness.
II.
Benedetto loved Professor Mayda.

When, at the Senator's house, he heard that the Professor had decided to carry him away to Villa Mayda, he showed great pleasure, He loved this man, who was perhaps, as yet, incapable of faith, but was profoundly convinced that there are enigmas which science cannot solve; who was generous, haughty with the great, but gentle with the humble.

He loved the garden also, the trees, the flowers, and the grass, whose friend and servant he had been, as he had been the friend and servant of the Professor.

Everything in this garden was full of sweet, innocent souls, in whose company he had adored God in certain moments of spiritual ecstasy, placing his lips on the tiny beings, on a flower, on a leaf, on a stem, in a breath of green coolness.