As he looked down on the pale head he realised that he did not want Paolo to die.
Standing on the sharp edge of the precipice where life ends and breaks off, close upon the unfathomable depths of eternity, himself firmly standing and fearing no fall, but seeing his brother slipping over the brink, he would put out his hand to save him, to draw him back.

He would not have Paolo die.
He gazed upon the calm features, and he knew that he feared lest they should be still for ever.

The breath came more softly, more and more faintly.

Marzio thought.

He bent down low and tried to feel the warm air as it issued from the lips.