And she led her away in a sisterly clasp, like a sister of affection and despair, lavishing the most gentle, consoling words upon her as they went.
"Follow them, go and see what becomes of them," Victorine said to Pierre.
"I do not want to stir from here, it quiets me to watch over my two poor children." A Capuchin was just beginning a fresh mass at the improvised altar, and the low Latin psalmody went on again, while in the adjoining ante-chamber, where another mass was being celebrated, a bell was heard tinkling for the elevation of the host.

The perfume of the flowers was becoming more violent and oppressive amidst the motionless and mournful atmosphere of the spacious throne-room.

The four servants standing at the head of the bed, as for a _gala_ reception, did not stir, and the procession of visitors ever continued, men and women entering in silence, suffocating there for a moment, and then withdrawing, carrying away with them the never-to-be-forgotten vision of the two tragic lovers sleeping their eternal sleep.
Pierre joined Celia and La Pierina in the _anticamera nobile_, where stood Don Vigilio.

The few seats belonging to the throne-room had there been placed in a corner, and the little Princess had just compelled the work-girl to sit down in an arm-chair, in order that she might recover self-possession.

Celia was in ecstasy before her, enraptured at finding her so beautiful, more beautiful than any other, as she said.