Three days later Yosef and Vasilkevich were sitting in Gustav's lodging. The evening was bright; bundles of moonlight were falling into the room through the panes. At the bedside of the sick man a candle was burning. The sick man himself was still conscious. Almost beautiful was his face, which had grown yellow from suffering, with its lofty forehead, as it rested on high pillows. One emaciated hand lay on the blanket, with the other he pressed his bosom.
The light of the candle cast a rosy gleam on that martyr to his own feelings. The opposite corner of the room was obscure in the shadow. Gustav was giving an account of how he had cared for Helena. From time to time he answered, though with difficulty, now to Yosef, now to Vasilkevich, who, standing at the head of the bed, wiped away the abundant perspiration which came out on the forehead of the sufferer.
"I wish to forewarn thee," said Gustav. "They send her two thousand zlotys yearly (about $250), but she needs from five to six thousand. I earned the rest for her—Push away the candle, and moisten my lips—I took from my own mouth, I did not sleep enough—Sometimes I did not eat a meal for two days—Raise me a little, and support me higher, I cannot speak—There are thirty rubles more for her in that box—It is dark around me—Let me rest—"
A mouse made a piece of paper rustle in one corner; except that, silence held the room. Death was coming.
"I should like to finish our work," continued Gustav. "Tell my associates not to quarrel—Cold is seizing me—I am curious to know if there be a heaven or a hell. I have never prayed—but, but—"
Vasilkevich inclined toward him and asked in a low voice,—
"Gustav, dost thou believe in immortality?"
The sick man could speak no longer; he nodded in sign of affirmation. Then low tones of enchanting music seemed to be given forth in that chamber. Along the rays of the moonlight a legion of angels pushed in from the sky; the room was filled with them, some with white, others with golden or colored wings. They came quietly, bent over the bed. The rustle of their wings was audible.
The spirit of Gustav went away with that low-sounding orchestra.