During his illness he had never once mentioned his children. They told him that Cæsar, like himself, lay at death's door, but he remained unmoved. Now they asked him if he desired any last message to his son or his daughter, but he turned away his head and said no word. It seemed as if those, whom in his lifetime he had so passionately loved, no longer had any existence for him.
On the 18th, Friday, he confessed to his chaplain, and made his communion. At the hour of vespers they read the prayers for the dying. Several times he made an effort to speak, and Cardinal Ilerda, bending down, at last caught the faint sounds coming from his cold lips:—
'Quick! quick! The Stabat Mater! the hymn to my Mediatress!' he whispered.
The hymn is not included in the office for the dying, but Ilerda repeated it:—
'Stabat Mater dolorosa
Juxta Crucem lacrimosa
Dum pendebat Filius....'
An ineffable comfort shone in the dying eyes, as if he saw heaven opened and his Mediatress waiting. He stretched out his hands, shuddered, raised himself, and murmured:—
'Cast me not away, O Holy Virgin!'
Then he fell back on his pillows. He was dead.