"What?... Was it the excitement?"
"No.... Septic pneumonia has developed. You know he was in a bad condition when.... He had bronchitis then."
She turned pale.... He pressed her hand.
"I am going back with you," she said, calmly, as he made a protesting gesture.
He did not dissuade her further.
When they arrived at the hotel Danilo was unconscious. The priest had just left and the fragrance of incense hung like a mysterious presence. Upon the table a candle burned feebly....
The nurse, worn out, left the room at midnight. Claire sat calm and dry-eyed at the bedside, holding Danilo's limp hand in hers.... He was very cold, she thought.... Suddenly a low, wailing, mournful sound broke the somber stillness. Claire sat rigid.
"A siren!" flashed through her mind.
And, in a twinkling, bits of broken noises, raucous with dry-throated joy, broke forth—whistles ... the clanging of bells ... the hoarse cheers of people ... the quick gasp of windows flung open to the night.
Danilo stirred. "Claire ... I hear ... yes, I hear ... a noise—a great noise."