Corinne whose sorrow was as deep as her being, spent two nights watching by her Dresden china aunt, now done in palest ivory. She felt as if she herself had destroyed her. When you had a fragile treasure like that and threw it literally into the streets....
But Fanny mingled her bright tears so healingly with her sister's that the last night, as they sat near their Tante Ilde, they found themselves talking softly, smilingly even, of familiar little things that once had made her smile. The flickering light of the candles at her head and feet met the silver crucifix on her breast, shimmered on the silver hair flat above the still, pale forehead.... The same light caught with a greedy, leaping flame the young, living gold of the two bowed heads....
But after a while except for the memory of the splendid funeral Fanny gave her, getting dimmer even that, in the hearts of those she had truly loved, it would soon be to everyone except Tante Ilde herself, busied timelessly in one of many mansions, as if she had never been.