He gave the order; and presently the tall, young, graceful woman with the proud sad look, the widow of Gian Galeazzo, entered the room and approached the dying Beatrice. All retired except Ludovico and the confessor.
For a few minutes the two women whispered together. Then Isabella kissed the other's cold forehead, knelt by the bedside and prayed, covering her face with her hands.
Beatrice signed to her husband.
'Vico, forgive me! Weep not. Remember my spirit will be always with you. I know it was I only—I only whom——'
She could not complete the sentence, but he understood her meaning.
'It was I only whom you loved.' Slowly she turned her eyes to him, eyes already darkening, and murmured:—
'One kiss—on my lips....'
The monk was reciting the last prayers for the dying, and the attendants, who had re-entered, responded in chorus.
The Duke felt the lips beneath his own turn cold and stiff; in that long kiss she had breathed her last faint sigh.
'She is dead,' said Marliani.