Federico and the old man placed the bier on the little catafalque, in the middle of the chapel. We all knelt. The priest recited other psalms. Then he uttered an invocation that the soul of the Innocent be called to heaven. Then he again sprinkled the bier with holy water. Then he went out, followed by his assistants.
We all arose. Everything was ready for the burial. Giovanni di Scordio took the light coffin in his arms, and his eyes were fixed on the glass lid. Federico descended first into the vault, and the old man descended behind him, bearing the coffin. I descended last, with a servant. Nobody spoke.
The sepulchral chamber was large, all of gray stone. In the walls were hollowed out niches, some already closed by stone blocks, the others gaping, deep, full of darkness, waiting for their prey. From an arch hung three lamps fed with olive oil, and they burned quietly in the humid and heavy air, with small, thin flames that were never extinguished.
"Here," said my brother.
And he pointed to an open niche, situated beneath another niche already closed by a stone slab. On that stone was engraved the name of Constance, from the gilt letters of whose name came confused flashes of light.
Then, to permit us to contemplate once more the dead child, Giovanni di Scordio extended the arms that bore the coffin. And we gave him a last look. Through the crystal lid that little, livid face, those little joined hands, that little robe, and those chrysanthemums, and all those white things appeared infinitely distant, intangible, as if the transparent lid of the coffin in the arms of that grand old man permitted a glimpse through some cleft of a supernatural mystery, terrible yet full of a sad charm.
No one spoke. It seemed as if no one breathed.
The old man turned toward the mortuary niche, bent over, laid the coffin on the ground, and pushed it slowly toward the end. Then he knelt down, and remained several minutes motionless.
In the depths the coffin stood out with a vague whiteness. In the lamplight the hoary head of the old man seemed luminous, thus bent on the border of the Shadow.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INTRUDER ***