"Then you——"
"Yes; I long to believe; I will believe!" exclaimed Arsinoë, and immediately wondered. Those words appeared a miracle to herself, and no deception. She had no wish to recall them.
"I will go into the desert, Myrrha; like you, instead of you," she continued in a transport of wild love; "and, if God exists, He must grant that there shall be no death between us; so that we shall be always together."
Myrrha closed her eyes, listening to her sister. With a smile of infinite peace, she murmured—
"Now, I will go to sleep. I want nothing more. I am well."
She never opened her eyes or spoke again; her face was calm and severe as the face of the dead; and in this state she lived on several days longer.
When a cup of wine was brought near to her lips, she would swallow a few mouthfuls. If her breathing became nervous and irregular, Juventinus would chant a prayer or some divine hymn, and then, as if soothed, Myrrha began to breathe more easily.
One evening, when the sun had set behind Ischia and Capreæ, while the motionless sea was melting into heaven, and the first dim star trembling, Juventinus was singing to the dying girl—
Deus creator omnium
Polique rector vestiens,