The canons noticing it, rushed towards him, forming a crowded mass of red vestments in front of his throne.

His Eminence was suffocating, fighting against that circle of hands who instinctively clutched at him.
"Air!" he moaned, "air! Get out from before me with a thousand curses! Take me home!" Even in the midst of his agony, he recovered his majestic gesture and his old soldiering oaths to drive away his enemies.

He was suffocating, but he would not allow the canons to see it: he guessed the delight many of them must feel beneath their compassionate manner.
Let no one touch him! He could manage for himself! So leaning on two faithful servants, he began his march, gasping, towards the episcopal staircase, followed by great part of the Chapter.
The religious function ended hurriedly.

The Virgin Would forgive it, she should have a better solemnity next year; and all the authorities and invited guests left their seats to run in search of news to the archiepiscopal palace.
When Gabriel woke, past mid-day, every one in the upper cloister was talking of His Eminence's health.

His brother inquired of the Aunt Tomasa who had just come from the palace.
"He is dying, my sons," said the gardener's widow; "he cannot escape from it.