“Oh, yes, I still suffer,” whispered the Prince, “but much less—the music is so beautiful!”
Now, there was no music in or near the Temple at this solemn moment; no noise of any kind from outside entered the room where the soul of the little martyr was preparing for flight. Gomin, much surprised, therefore, asked him:
“Where does the music come from?”
“From above there!” replied the child.
“Is it long that you have heard it?”
“Since you knelt down by me and prayed. Have you not heard it? Listen—listen now!”
With a quick motion he held up his feeble hand, his blue eyes shining with rapture, while Gomin, not wishing to dispel this last sweet illusion of the dying child, made a pious effort to hear what could not be heard, and pretended to be listening to the music. In a few moments the Prince raised himself suddenly and cried out in an ecstasy of joy:
“Oh! among all those voices I can hear my mother’s!” and as this holy name escaped the orphan’s lips, all his pain and sorrow seemed to disappear. His eyebrows, drawn with suffering, relaxed and his eyes sparkled with the light of victory and freedom. But the radiance of his glance was soon dimmed; the old worn look came back to his face and he sank back, his hands crossed meekly on his breast. Gomin watched him closely and followed all his movements with anxious eyes. His breathing was not more difficult, but his eyes wandered about vacantly and absently, and were often fixed on the window. Gomin asked if anything troubled him, but he did not seem to hear even when the question was repeated, and made no reply. Lasne came soon after to relieve Gomin, who left his little friend with a heavy heart, although he did not realize the end was so near. Lasne sat by the bed for a long time in silence, the Prince gazing at him sorrowfully; but when he moved a little, Lasne asked him how he felt and whether he wanted anything. Instead of replying, he asked abruptly:
“Do you think my sister could hear the music? It would make her so happy!”
Lasne could not answer this. The yearning eyes of the dying boy, dark with the anguish of death, were turned toward the window. Suddenly a cry of joy escaped him; then, turning to Lasne, he said: