XV.
Basilio.
Life is a Dream.
Basilio had scarcely strength to enter and fall into his mother’s arms. A strange cold enveloped Sisa when she saw him come alone. She wished to speak, but found no words; to caress her son, but found no force. Yet at the sight of blood on his forehead, her voice came, and she cried in a tone which seemed to tell of a breaking heartstring:
“My children!”
“Don’t be frightened, mama; Crispin stayed at the convent.”
“At the convent? He stayed at the convent? Living?”
The child raised his eyes to hers.
“Ah!” she cried, passing from the greatest anguish to the utmost joy. She wept, embraced her child, covered with kisses his wounded forehead.