"Better than thou," he cried, as he gave her one last kiss, "there never has been; there never will be on earth."
"Happy are they, my son, who, on dying, can hear such words," murmured the aged priest.
They led him away. He went straight to his study, and leaned against the window. The day had not as yet completely dawned. The suddenness of the shock had checked his tears. Motionless, with gleaming eyes, and leaning his brow against the pane, he stood a long time listening to that voice of revelation in his soul which alone has a right to speak at this supreme hour. At last he could hear himself murmur in a hoarse voice:—
"Who knows? who knows?"
XXXI.
What more do you wish to know?
Miguel staggered like an athlete who receives a blow in the midst of his forehead; but he did not succumb. In the unavoidable obligation upon him of protecting his baby boy, who had lost his mother just as he was beginning to stammer her name, he found strength to live.
His story, far from romantic, becomes even less interesting from this time forward. It is reduced almost entirely to meditations, doubts, hopes, discouragements,—storms such as only rage in the secret depths of the spirit. The story of it can be interesting only to the psychologist. Therefore we will condense this long and wearisome narration.
He devoted his whole life to his son. Work and study, if they did not assuage his grief, sometimes made him forget it, lifting him at the same time to a loftier plane; as years went on, he maintained a deep and serious sadness which left him calm enough for thought. Day nor night did he leave his son. As often as he could, he took him with him to his office; he used to set him down opposite him, so that when he looked up, his eyes might fall upon that little face, in which he sought anxiously to discover lines and features of another that was graven as with a chisel on his very heart. If his friends wanted to make him happy for a moment, they had only to assure him that the little one would in time come to look exactly like his mother. On the other hand, if any one told him that he was going to resemble him, he would stand sad and thoughtful for a long time.
Sometimes, catching from his lips or in his eyes some expression peculiar to Maximina, he would burst out sobbing.