"You could have done nothing," said Aunt Grathia, who was still guarding the horse. "Make haste, son Fidele!" she repeated impatiently.
"Why didn't you warn me," said Anania, stooping mechanically to take off his spur. "What was the matter with her? What did the doctor say? God knows I had no idea——Well, I'm going up to see her."
He straightened himself and moved towards the stair, but Aunt Grathia still holding the lamp hastily prevented him.
"What, my son? The thing you will see is a corpse!" she cried in horror-struck tones.
"Nonna! Do you suppose I'm afraid? Come with me."
"Very well."
The old woman preceded him up the wooden stair. Her deformed shadow as tall as the roof, trembled on the wall.
At the door of the room where the dead woman lay. Aunt Grathia stopped and hesitated. Again she pressed Anania's arm. He noticed that the old woman was shivering; and, he knew not why, he shuddered himself.
"Son," said the widow, in a whisper "don't be shocked."
He grew pale; the thought deformed and monstrous, like the shadows trembling on the wall, took form and filled his soul with terror.