"No, I will not believe that she is dead yet; but, sir, if not dead, then she is dying." I could have struck him down for his words.

"She will die in my arms, then," I exclaimed, thrusting him roughly aside, and lifting her up with the cloak beneath her.
And while I held her thus, her head resting on my arm, and gazed with unutterable anguish into her strangely white face, insanely praying to Heaven to restore her to me, Nuflo fell on his knees before her, and with bowed head, and hands clasped in supplication, began to speak.
"Rima! Grandchild!" he prayed, his quivering voice betraying his agitation.

"Do not die just yet: you must not die--not wholly die--until you have heard what I have to say to you.

I do not ask you to answer in words--you are past that, and I am not unreasonable.

Only, when I finish, make some sign--a sigh, a movement of the eyelid, a twitch of the lips, even in the small corners of the mouth; nothing more than that, just to show that you have heard, and I shall be satisfied.
Remember all the years that I have been your protector, and this long journey that I have taken on your account; also all that I did for your sainted mother before she died at Voa, to become one of the most important of those who surround the Queen of Heaven, and who, when they wish for any favour, have only to say half a word to get it.