“They are not the sort of people for that,” he muttered contemptuously, touching his horses with the whip.
Meantime they had entered the house. The silent hall had a lugubrious aspect in Sebastião’s eyes. With a feeling of terror he went up the stairs that seemed to be unending, and with his heart beating violently he glanced around, expecting to see her lying there in a faint, or standing before him pale but breathing.
No, there she was as he had left her, stretched on the floor, her arms extended, her fingers drawn up like claws. The edge of her skirt was slightly raised, disclosing to view her rose-colored stockings and her carpet slippers. The lamp that Sebastião had left on the floor, by the side of a chair, gave her rigid features livid tones, her distorted mouth was set in a grimace, and her half-open eyes, fixed immovably in death, were veiled by a cloud like a diaphanous cobweb. Everything around seemed motionless and dead. The silver on the shelves of the sideboard gleamed faintly in the light, and the cuckoo-clock continued its ceaseless ticking.
Julião examined her and then stood up, shaking his hands.
“She is dead, and very dead,” he said. “She must be taken away from here. Where is her room?”
Sebastião, very pale, pointed upstairs.
“Very well; carry her you, and I will take the light,” said Julião. Seeing that Sebastião did not move, “Are you afraid?” he asked, laughing. And he began to ridicule him. What was he afraid of? It was inert matter; it was just as if he were carrying a trunk. Sebastião, perspiring to the roots of his hair, put his hands under the arms of the corpse, raised it, and dragged it slowly along. Julião held the light before him, and through bravado sang the first bars of the March of Faust. But Sebastião, shocked, said in a trembling voice,—
“I will leave it all, and go away.”
“Let us respect the nerves of the young lady,” said Julião, with a bow.
They went on in silence. This frail body weighed on Sebastião like the stone of a sepulchre; one of the dead woman’s slippers fell off and rolled downstairs. Sebastião felt something strike against his knees; it was the chignon, fastened with a ribbon, which had fallen down. They laid her on the bed, and Julião said they must respect the traditions. He folded her hands across her breast, and closed her eyes. He stood watching her for a moment, and then said,—