Speak of me to her as little as you may--be happy and--farewell!' Now as she spoke ever more faintly, and I listened bewildered, the light of dawn grew slowly in the chamber.

It gathered on the white shape of Otomie seated in a chair hard by the bed, and I saw that her arms hung down and that her head was resting on the back of the chair.

Now I sprang up and peered into her face.

It was white and cold, and I could feel no breath upon her lips.

I seized her hand, that also was cold.