The fainting fit lasted several minutes. Father Peter, thinking she was dying, began reading the prayers. The sick girl came to herself.
“Do not agitate yourself; be calm,” said the priest, noticing she was coming to.
“Oh, I cannot any more! Leave me! Go away!” murmured the sick girl. “Another time.… Let me rest.”
“I have just christened your son,” said the priest, wishing to give her a little courage. “I wish you joy for him. God is merciful; you may yet live for him.…”
A faint smile came on the poor parched lips of the captive. Her eyes wandered aimlessly around, as though seeing beyond that room, that fortress, beyond everything surrounding her, far away.…
Father Peter blessed the poor girl, gazed at her for some time, took the chalice, and having postponed the celebration of the Holy Communion, left the room.
“Well! what?” asked the commandant, who was waiting for him in the corridor; “has she confessed, communicated?”
The priest inclined his head, silently bowed to the commandant, entered the carriage, and left the Ravelin.
On the morning of the 2nd of December, he was asked to come to the fortress, and to bring the Elements of the Eucharist with him. The sick girl was fading rapidly.